


Recklessness and Other Spaces

by Virlatta



Category: Boruto: Naruto Next Generations, Naruto
Genre: Angst, Bad Decisions, Boruto: Naruto the Movie, Dystopia, F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi, Not Epilogue Compliant, Other, Pessimistic, Pre-Boruto, This shouldn't have happened, for now it's just sadness and angst, it is a manifesto of a sort i guess, kind of, love is gone, tags will change as i'm not exactly sure which characters will appear and what exactly will happen, train wreck
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-04
Updated: 2019-04-05
Packaged: 2019-06-21 21:21:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 28,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15566580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Virlatta/pseuds/Virlatta
Summary: On recklessness, mindlessness, and mistakes.





	1. Chapter 1

It was already late at night but Naruto still wasn't done with the direct train tracks communication referendum that was put under his nose in the afternoon. The new council was all about reforms, as if the village didn't have enough of those already after the major boom which provided more trouble than resolve. 

Moving the stacks of papers around on his desk to find a very particular voting sheet (which he, for sure, had had in his hands just a little while ago) and cursing Shikamaru's name under his breath, he wished for the lazy bastard to drag his skinny ass over there and help him look around. After almost ten minutes of fruitless searching, Naruto sighed and covered his face with his bandaged hand, the sloppy movement almost knocking over one of the closer stacks - probably something he had vetoed but came back to him anyway. 

He couldn't necessarily say he was too old for this, but he was certainly too tired. 

Two all-nighters in a row, goodness gracious. Maybe he ought to remove Konohamaru from the Academy and hire him as another helper in there because with the amount of documents in this office alone, he would be free to come home to Hinata and kids maybe by the next Christmas Eve. At best. Firing and hiring people at will, though, would be abusing the power and Naruto didn't try to abuse anyone if he could help it, especially since Konohamaru really liked teaching those kids. He was just too tired for all of this.

This was surely not what he had imagined when he had dreamed about becoming Hokage. 

He let Shikamaru off earlier today so he could spend some more time with Temari and their son. Naruto had too much of a good heart - if he had more brains, he would order Shikamaru to stay longer and tidy this mess, and he himself would finally come home for dinner which he hadn't done in almost a month, but he heard Temari was livid with her husband's overload of work and requested his presence for at least "one damn meal". Speaking of meals, he wondered if Hinata made salty beef tongues this evening. He was hungry beyond belief. When was the last time he ate? He turned in his chair around to look at the clock on the wall. He lost count of the hours he spent locked in this place, in the dark and alone, away from his most important people. 

Maybe a small break wouldn't be too bad. Naruto stood up, bones creaking (no time for any major training anymore although he still tried to move around as much as he could), and moved to the window to look at the village. His village. A peaceful night, not a person in sight. Both of his hands went around his back, the healthy one clutching at the artificial prosthesis made from Hashirama's cells. If it was a real one, the grip would cause him pain but he refused to grimace.

He used to think of a Hokage as someone... epic, from the lack of the better word. His vocabulary had never been too extended; he was a man of simple needs and simple wants, after all, and protecting his loved ones was his number one goal. Proving himself was a side quest to that destiny and determination the driving factor that was supposed to lead him through the latter to the former. And now, he was sitting behind an old desk given to him by his predecessors, with endless documents of contents often illegible to him, and of which he needed to consult Shikamaru's intelligent mind almost every time. He wasn't educated enough for this job, he lazed off at the academy and when the peace came, he had to work twice as hard to study history, geography and politics. Naruto's never been the one to swiftly process loads of important information, and he would be ashamed to admit that he's had forgotten almost all minutiae of the quick study period even though he had passed Iruka's tests with excellent scores. Top scores, even. He remembered his former sensei saying that he was more than proud of him. That he would make an even greater Hokage than his father if he kept that up.

Now, he had to look up elementary information for some of his documents and request breaks at meetings to sneak into his office and lap up maps and past agreements between villages because he simply didn't understand references. 

Like a dream came and went the times when he thought the leader was supposed to be, first and foremost, stronger than everyone. He felt guilty, and, if that wasn't enough, his own son hated him to the bone. Hinata probably did too, if she was capable of hatred, that is. Naruto wasn't sure; she always appeared full of love and tenderness whenever he saw her at these few instances he was at home. She smiled at him, listened to his complaints, made him dinner, did his laundry and made his bed. She let herself be kissed, cuddled and made love to. 

Not like they did a lot of that lately. Truth be told, he was afraid of a possibility of having another child he would have no time for. 

Naruto's forehead met with the cold glass of the window. His burning, exhausted eyes shut closed begging for some rest. The most constant thing on his mind regarding Hinata was that he ruined her with the life he decided to lead. He was never home, and when he was, he was almost always sleeping his spirits away, too tired to even talk to her or to the kids. Asking about their day was a luxury, let alone hearing summarized stories of previous days, months, accomplishments and happy memories. He had abandoned his family and left everything to his beautiful, kind wife, positively cutting her from the shinobi ways of living and acting; she didn't have time to train anymore, always being busy with the children, and putting the warmth and love into their household, shopping, cooking, cleaning, gossiping with friends, maintaining balance. It was as if he had cut her wings, leaving her to rot. Not that she was miserable; they both loved their kids to death, and would kill and die for them. That was how parents were, after all. 

Still.

He tried not to call all of this a mistake but he couldn't help to think just that. Why did he even marry Hinata? Why had everything changed so much? It was too quiet, too peaceful, too new, and he was certainly not used to peace. He was used to constant danger, Akatsuki, to the adrenaline of learning something new, to saving people, to running after Sasuke. Even to the childhood bullying. He remembered his old self - carefree, hardworking, overriding his limits, passionate, just... strong. Now, he felt like a weakling. A pathetic one, sitting in a chair all day long. How did this happen? Technically he was now stronger than ever before, having beaten a goddess. The repertoire of his techniques, his new-realized bond with Kurama— who was, at the moment, sleeping away Naruto's intern dilemmas—the respect everyone provided him with and the one he has always wished for... Where did his life go, then? His mind tried to provide that it went away with Sasuke but that was definitely the answer he did not need at that point into the night, and especially not when he was exhausted beyond belief, alone in the dark. 

Absentmindedly, Naruto reached for the photo on the window sill that had been accompanying him through better or worse, through his childhood, adolescence, and now adulthood. It was the same old photo of Team 7, with Kakashi in the back smiling pitifully at the three of them. The glass cover was a bit broken after he threw it against a wall once. It probably was another instance of him failing in bringing Sasuke back. Oh, the time he wasted on that.

Sasuke was still mostly absent from their lives; he came and went as it pleased him, never staying in the village for too long, always running on errands 'atoning for his sins' as he called it. Sakura was complaining that, if that lifestyle was to be kept up, Sarada would be brought up without a father which supposedly complicated things in young women's psyche. Or something. Naruto wouldn't know, he had never been a little girl. All he knew was that he missed Sasuke thoroughly. Deeply, like a lost limb, even more than his real arm. Nothing too complicated, nothing psyche-related; he just missed that horrible piece of shit, no matter how bad it was with him.

His bandaged finger landed on Sasuke's young face almost caressing it. What a bastard. A cold-blooded bastard dictating other people's lives while being away. He couldn't help but admire him, though. The Uchiha was a bird that could never be caged down and Naruto kind of admired that. No, he loved that. Sasuke wasn't the type to completely give himself into the parenthood; he conceived a child that would sustain his clan's name, which was minimal but enough. The wild, determined Uchiha chose his own path and decided to leave his family behind to bloom without the stigmata of his past. Even though Sakura complained lots about his absence, Naruto could sense she was... kind of relieved. They could never find a common tongue anyway and she was used to not being around Sasuke, love or not. She felt safer with Sarada on her own. Her husband usually brought a sense of danger and instability with him, which Sakura never liked and felt threatened by. Unlike Naruto.

The answer to his troubled question was right in front of him but he was just too scared to accept it. He dedicated his whole life to Sasuke, that was why everything felt wrong. Sasuke was his most important person, no doubt about it. There was a reason why Naruto had always been chasing after him and ignored Hinata, even though she had been right by his side and available, very much available and more than willing. He chose her because he would be an idiot not to - she had loved him for years, was a stable and calm sort that brought gracefulness into the calamity of life. Also, Sakura, who had waited for so long, was another factor he took into reckless consideration. He felt as if she deserved Sasuke more than him. And so he let them be, leaving the taming of the wild bird to her nervous and disturbed heart; A wild, never-to-be-domesticated creature that continuously scratched at her wounds and burns. Which was, of course, a mistake. Everything went downhill when he decided to get separated from Sasuke. Again. Separated from his most important person.

Naruto wondered if he hated himself more than Boruto hated him. Maybe. Probably. He never had a father in his life.

Tired of the nonsensical what-ifs and irritated with the thoughts, Naruto quickly composed himself and sat back in his chair, trying to put himself together. It was supposed to be a quick break, after all. He went back to searching for the voting document, praying to be done with it tonight and to finally sleep in his own bed for a change. While rummaging through the papers, his hand fell upon a sealed scroll, a message that came in the early morning, and which he forgot to read after Shikamaru gave him a pack of complaints about the new active train model which was late too many times and a group of people decided it was faulty. He honestly missed the humble days of running around and relying on the strength of your own legs. Technology made everything too... unreliable. And everyone panicked too quickly.

Naruto unsealed the message and read Sasuke's signature with a rapidly beating heart. Hands twitching, he dug into the contents of the letter like a hungry animal, drinking every word with face burning red. Troubles on the Northern border with the Sound, investigating, help from the Raikage; all of which should be worrying but made him shiver with excitement because it was Sasuke. Sasuke abandoned his family but was writing him letters on his whereabouts and plans. This was not fair and kind at all. But it gave Naruto a fever like no other. 

He felt like he was twenty years old again. And he cried.


	2. Chapter 2

When Sasuke came home, Sakura was snuggled down in her living room chair browsing through one of her personal library's medical books, and trying to learn how to properly reconnect nerves together after losing a limb. Sarada sensed him earlier than Sakura did, and the little girl was out the door before she herself was able to look up from her reading. 

Sakura stood up and straightened her clothes, removing any visible or invisible dust, and evening potential creases. Hearing Sarada's excited voice and Sasuke's quiet, stoic reply, she felt her cheeks heat up and her steady heartbeat turning rapid. She moved towards the main door to greet her husband, kiss his cold cheek and offer him some dinner—like a proper wife—but her body stopped before her mind caught up. Outside, Sarada squealed with joy. 

Releasing a shivering breath, Sakura brought her hand to her chest and grabbed herself by the shirt. Sasuke was surprisingly good with their child and Sarada loved him very, very much. He was her number one idol. Back then, when they were travelling together and Sakura became pregnant on the journey, she was too overjoyed for words at the thought of having a child together, but knowing Sasuke and his overall demeanor towards other people, she had moments of suffocating dread that he would either distance himself to his limit or abandon them altogether. It was a miracle they were close to one of Orochimaru's hideouts when she was close due, otherwise delivery would had been problematic. Karin had done a pretty good job as a medic and Sakura had profusely thanked her on her weakened knees, soon after Sarada's birth. She was thankful. If something had went wrong, she could be dead. Or even worse, Sarada would not had made it. And Sasuke would leave her then.

She would not be worthy of him if she could not bring him a child. The Uchiha clan had to last no matter what. She knew that, and she was ready to do it.

Before she could move further, Sarada ran in, holding Sasuke's remaining hand with her smaller one. She had demanded having her nails painted red, like her mother, and who was Sakura to refuse? 

"Mom, mom!" Sarada yelled bringing Sasuke further into the corridor, not minding that he almost hit the lamp with his forehead. "Look, daddy came home, it's daddy!"

Sasuke shot Sakura a piercing, calculating look, back still a bit hunched because of Sarada's firm grip. Even in this frankly ridiculous position he looked threatening as always, especially compared to a jumping around, happy-go-lucky daughter who was almost in tears of joy. 

Sakura pushed a curl of hair behind her ear, nervous.

"Hi, Sasuke," she finally spoke.

"Hi."

"Mom made dinner just a while ago, come eat with us!" Sarada started to make her way towards the kitchen, pushing Sakura a bit to the side to make more room for her father to maneuver around the small space of the corridor. Shooting Sakura another glance—a more delicate one—Sasuke obediently followed his daughter. Sakura trailed behind the pair without saying a word.

While Sarada prepared the table, Sakura went to the oven to heat up the leftovers from dinner, grateful to have something to busy herself with. Noticing there wasn't much left except for some rice—which she usually saved for all-nighters in her library—she decided to fix something up quickly. She released a sigh of relief upon that realization; the less she had to interact with Sasuke, the better. 

Wait, did she really think that? She was just nervous because it had been a while since he was home. That was all. She was happy he returned. If not for her, then for Sarada. Sarada should have a father figure in her life, and Naruto was surely not the best influence when it came to parenthood and the upbringing of children. Not as if Hinata had said anything or complained, but Sakura could sense it every time she came to visit the Uzumaki family. Boruto was turning especially grumpy every time either of the woman mentioned the Seventh Hokage. Which was sad. Sakura's parents had always told her that family bonds are sacred and should be cherished, protected from nightmares. She had felt lucky having both parents, while pitying Naruto and Sasuke over their losses. Seeing how they were in childhood, she would rather kill herself then let Sarada feel even an ounce of what those two had been through. She felt as if Naruto did not truly appreciate what he had gained and it pissed her off.

And then there was Sasuke; beautiful, mysterious Sasuke, that even after all these years made her fill up with love and that almost obsessive need of making sure he was always alright. Sakura had always tried to fix him. And the fixing itself was not the problem (she was doing it on daily basis now); the problem was with Sasuke and him letting her in, which had taken them a long time. Even now it was still hugely problematic. All that running around the world, atoning for sins, and helping others while not being a part of building a lovely home in the place where he belonged didn't really suit Sakura's needs or the family template she had grown up with. Why couldn't he stay put and let himself be fixed like she desired, goddammit?

"Daddy, how's the border?" Sarada demanded, climbing onto his lap and clutching at his wandering cape which he didn't bother to take off. "Where have you been?" 

Sasuke balanced her carefully on his knee, face gentle when he looked at her. Gentle but still closed off. "The border is messy. Hidden Sound is on the verge of civil war, or so the Raikage thinks." 

From the way Sasuke's voice resonated in the room, Sakura knew he was mostly speaking to her. What did Sarada know about the world anyway? Civil wars wasn't something that would interest her. More like epic adventures of which her dark, handsome father was the hero. But Sasuke was not interested in fairytales.

"I see," Sakura nodded. She turned around with furrowed brows and set a bowl of steamy, white rice before Sasuke. "Can the Raikage handle it? Or will he need reinforcements?"

"I promised to help. Hidden Sound is quite populated compared to twenty years ago back when Orochimaru funded it." Sasuke released Sarada and grabbed the chopsticks she provided for him. "I'm leaving tomorrow after I speak to Naruto."

Sarada's head turned so quickly Sakura was afraid that she might pull a tendon or two. Her own grip on the knife tightened, almost breaking the handle as she tried to get back to chopping some fresh squid. She forced herself to calm down and not break or toss something across the kitchen. That could possibly, preferably, hit Sasuke in the face.

"Leave again? So soon?" her daughter pouted climbing onto the chair next to Sasuke. "Why? Stay with us a bit longer."

She was close to tug on his sleeve.

"I can't. I'm sorry."

"But why, daddy?"

"I'm needed there."

"But we need you here, too..."

"Innocent people are dying, Sarada."

Sakura bit her lip and pretended she was thoroughly tossing the oolong-seaweed salad she just prepared. The silence that followed the short, tense exchange was thick. She could clearly hear Sarada's heavy breathing from where she was standing. 

"How is the Raikage anyway?" she heard herself talking to break the tension, and took the salad and the squid to the table when she was finished with them. The last thing she wanted was for Sarada to start crying.

"On the verge of retiring. He is going to make Darui his successor," Sasuke replied and politely dug into the food she made. He was silent even when he was eating.

"Darui?" Sakura wondered out loud and sat down. "I thought he would choose Killer Bee?" 

Evidently the conversation had ended.

Sakura brought her hands together, fingers rubbing each other in a rapid manner. She risked a quick glance in Sarada's direction which she hoped would go unnoticed; her daughter was staring intently at Sasuke, trying to make him do her bidding and stay once and for all. She would also like for her husband to stay but knew all too well that she had to let him be. That was just how they were. They were lucky he sometimes came home anyway.   
Maybe one day he would stay put and start letting her in, wholly and fully.

When Sasuke was done with dinner, he went to see Naruto, leaving his daughter and his wife alone as if he had never came home. They went out to see him off, as he would probably stay at Naruto's all night and return... sometime in the future, probably. 

Sarada stared at his retreating back and tugged at her mother's hand.

"Mom," she started but needed to swallow before continuing. She was on the verge of tears, Sakura could tell. "Does daddy prefer uncle Hokage to us?"

I hope not, was the first thing that came to Sakura's mind. Instead, she gripped Sarada's hand and offered looking over her shuriken practice. Like Sasuke's mother had offered him a long time ago.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading and leaving kudos! I really appreciate it!


	3. Chapter 3

"So, Naruto let you go for once."

Shikamaru finished the rest of his beer. "Yep. Family bonds. Or something." 

Temari sighed. She had just finished doing the dishes and was wiping her wet hands on a towel. "Like he's the one to talk."

Shikamaru observed silently as Shikadai thought of his next shōgi move, brow furrowed and bottom lip between his teeth. The kid was still inexperienced so he could read every thought process on his face. He resisted a small smile.

"I mean," Temari continued as she made her way to the table and sat next to him with a glass of honey wine; she started picking at her fingernails, hands still warm and wrinkled from the soapy water. "I'm seriously glad you're home and all but he should think about his own family, too."

"How so?" Shikamaru asked politely; not like he was interested in gossip which he was sure he would get loads of in a moment. Shikadai finally decided on his move, and he already knew how the game would play out. He wondered for a second whether to let his son win but figured that would teach him nothing, really. On the other hand, he was actually quite exhausted after the whole day of helping Naruto with the papers so maybe he should cut the game short.

In two moves or five?

"Well, I met with Hinata today."

And there it was. The gossip. He took the shōgi lance piece between his index and middle fingers. "Yeah? She okay? Kids 'n all?"

He moved the piece forward. Shikadai would move with his bishop within three minutes and move it two places to the right. 

Temari watched their game with a blank look. "They seemed fine," she shrugged before adding sourly, "considering their dad is missing most of the time."

Shikadai looked up from the game, eyes flashing. "Hokage is missing?" 

"Not like that, silly," Temari smiled at him and reached over the table to tug at his ponytail which he swiftly dodged. "It's just that Hokage is rarely home and doesn't really see his kids much."

Shikadai nodded, disinterested now that there wasn't much exciting mystery to explore.

"Well, Naruto is the Hokage," Shikamaru said, rubbing his beard and with eyes on the board. "I'm home less than I would like to be, so try to imagine how much work he has on his hands."

"That doesn't exclude him from being a parent!" 

He sighed. 

"I moved from Suna to create a family with you and abandoned my post as a Wind shinobi." Temari took a quick sip of wine. "In the name of love, right? Sacrificing things is a part of having a family, you can't say no to that."

Shikadai was throwing glances between the both of them, game forgotten for the moment. Shikamaru reckoned he was awaiting another argument. They did fight almost daily, but their fights were mostly light-hearted and usually kicked off by Temari. Shikamaru was an only child but he imagined his wife simply liked arguments, coming from a family with two brothers, especially with a little brother like Kankurō, who seemed to inherit the sentiment towards discussions and was somehow passionate about fighting with her. Even when the insults kept coming and their teeth were bared, they were smiling at each other. 

Shikamaru tolerated Temari's love for bickering; he didn't share the love, but he did love her and her devotion to Konoha. He himself wasn't really sure whether he would be willing to move to Suna, while Temari didn't even think twice about doing it and left her younger brothers to tend to themselves on their own. He thought of Gaara specifically, of whom Temari was the right hand in rule and operation of Suna. How was he managing without her? He never thought of asking him.

Noticing Shikadai's discomfort with the conversation's turn, he hummed towards his son to redirect his attention back to shōgi. With success. "It's not as easy, you're not the leader."

Temari was contemplating the answer. Her hand was moving lazily, swirling the wine around the glass, the gaze of her eyes stuck to the ceiling. Shikamaru loved her eyes.

"Maybe that's why Gaara doesn't want to get married," she said finally. Then she sighed, as if in torment, and rested her chin on her free hand. "No matter how many times me or Kankurō pester him about it, he refuses. Every time."

"Well, maybe-"

"We even found him a wife once! A princess from one of the Water Country's villages, can you believe it? But every time it's: I do not want a wife. These words exactly. Every time."

"Actually-"

"A princess, Shikamaru." 

"...I hear ya."

Because Shikadai was still thinking about his next move, Shikamaru decided to get himself some wine, too, since he was already finished with his post-work mandatory beer. Temari often complained about her younger brother's dismay towards marriage, even before she moved to Konoha, and he detested the topic. If a guy didn't want a wife on his hands, why the hell not let him be single all his life? Simple. Women were a drag, after all.

"She was pretty, too," Temari continued with a pout. "Why, Shikamaru? He's the representative of our cou- his country. He needs a presentable wife! And children! You know, maybe a successor by blood? If he doesn't have any children—and god forbid Kankurō reproduces—Shikadai would be the next in line, and Suna's council would ran rampant. He's a Konoha shinobi and they would never live it down."

Shikamaru returned to the table with the whole bottle—he felt the conversation called for that—poured some of it into a glass and immediately drank three huge gulps. Meanwhile, Shikadai was proudly smiling at the move he had made. Bishop, two spots to the right. The gold general would be next and would kill Shikamaru's lance piece, which was the plan.

"They would think of it as disgrace to the whole village! Imagine what the Second Kazekage would think of that, you know what they're like!"

"Oh man." Shikamaru moved another one of his pieces forward. Three moves to go. "The council has no say in his personal life if he doesn't want to share his thoughts or bring a girl over. So what if he doesn't want a wife? Better be single than wed a complete witch, no?"

Temari's eyes squinted at him. "Are you trying to say something?"

"No. Just... maybe you're right, maybe Gaara knows that a wife and children would be problematic. Maybe Naruto shares his family problems with him over letters and your brother got some ideas from that. You know he sucks data from Naruto like a sponge. He has a lot on his hands, especially since Suna is expanding and you're not there to help him anymore, so marriage at the moment would be troublesome. If the country's sake is more important to him than romance, it means he's a good leader. That's why his people respect him. No distractions, if you know what I mean."

He risked a glance at Shikadai but the kid was too young to think about ambiguity of his words. Temari on the other hand was contemplative, again. It was probably the wine. They both took a sip from their glasses when Shikadai prompted his gold general after Shikamaru's lance. Shikamaru countered with his own gold bishop, killing three of Shikadai's pieces in a row. Two more moves.

"You're right," Temari finally said, and Shikamaru, shocked, almost missed his mouth when he was taking another sip. "I'd rather for my stupid little brother to be single and content rather than married and unhappy, like Naruto and Hinata are."

"Are they, though?" He asked but, to be honest, he knew the answer. Aside from being the most intelligent and observant shinobi alive at the moment, he could also be empathetic. Even when he tried to be loyal to his Hokage and a close friend of his at the same time.

His wife's hands rubbed against her folded knees. Worried. Shikadai moved his lance piece forward and Shikamaru blocked him with his king. One.

"Hinata fears he's going to leave one day and not come back."

It sounded like a quiet afterthought. Shikamaru snorted with amusement. "Naruto? Leave? Please. And Hinata of all people?"

Temari threw Shikadai a cautious glance. He wasn't listening to them, thankfully, absorbed in the game. She changed her tone to a whisper. "You know... with the Uchiha?" 

Oh. That.

Shikamaru waited with his response until Shikadai moved his silver bishop forward. He placed his king next to Shikadai's, ending the game. Five moves. "Checkmate, kid. Now, go, train a bit more before bed."

"Maybe one more, dad?" Shikadai's eyes shone with hope. "Let's play one more!"

"I need to have a talk with your mother about something. Give us some privacy, will ya?"

Shikadai had grown up into an obedient son; which was mostly Temari's doing. He simply stood up, stretched his back, and went to the door after grabbing two kunai knives. When the door slid shut after him, Shikamaru turned back to his beloved wife.

"So, Sasuke," he started with a serious face but figured Temari had a lot more to say on the matter.

"Hinata didn't really mention it like that, but, you know. Woman's intuition. She said the only times he perks up is when it has to do with... him. Rarely anything else brings him joy anymore. If he comes home, all he talks about is missing going on adventures and missions as the two of them used to after the Great War." Temari's jaw was set like a well-hewed out figurine. "And he keeps telling their children stories about Sasuke. Instead of Hinata, for example. Or anything else, really."

Shikamaru rubbed at the back of his neck. "Damn. Serious?"

"Yeah. That's... I don't really know how to say it."

"Worrisome? Disappointing?" he provided.

Her face fell and she dropped her head. "Something like that. Hinata's been in love with him all that time—and it's not like she stopped or something, no, she's still very much in the sweet spot—and she doesn't really consider Uchiha a... threat or anything, but..."

"She thinks that Naruto doesn't deem their marriage important?"

"...In other words." 

Imagine you love someone but that person is virtually obsessed with someone else; a third party you don't really even know well, and who, on top of that, is also a registered criminal who threatened your country numerous times and made friends with the enemy. You'd do everything for that loved one, and the loved one knows about it very well but they still chase after that dangerous person, trying to fix them. Then, when everything cools down ,and seems to be nice and dandy, you are actually acknowledged by your loved one. You marry them. Bear their children, create a household. A dream come true. And still, your loved one chases after the third party, misses out on your children's growth and on your love, running after a chimera dream. 

One conclusion came to mind.

"Naruto is my friend," Shikamaru said after a moment of silence. "He has a special place in my heart- in all of our hearts. He's helped us, cured us, led us to where we are now. However, in amidst all of that, he made a mistake and involuntarily hurt one of his most important people because of his recklessness and mindless stupidity which he's infamous of."

Temari made a disgusted noise and her hand twitched, almost spilling her newly filled glass of wine. "Oh, stop. Don't get me wrong, I generally like Naruto, he's an okay guy. My brother is almost in love with his state of mind. But he's being a hideous pig. Behaving like he's a horny sixteen-year-old, when he's nearing thirty. Why did he marry Hinata if he didn't love her?"

"I didn't say he doesn't love Hinata. I'm saying, after all these years, it's Sasuke he wants more than her." Shikamaru trailed off knowing he was nearing a dangerous spot in the dialogue. He could hear Shikadai's kunai hitting the wooden training board. 

"Sasuke's been on his mind since childhood, his feelings for him spiraled out of control once he figured this whole thing out and it's causing personal problems now."

"I can't listen to this." Temari stood up, her steps heavy on the wooden floor. Some wine spilled onto it. She pointed a finger at him as if she was a scolding mother. "You're not the romantic type, why are you romanticizing his childish mistake? He's not only hurting Hinata but also his children. And Sakura and her daughter too! If he wants Sasuke, why didn't he get together with Sasuke and told Hinata 'no'?"

Shikamaru stood up as well but not as aggressively and angrily as his wife; Temari liked to dominate in a fight and, when emotions peaked, every so often she tried to find herself literally above the other person to feel empowered. Similarly to a cat. He didn't want for this conversation to turn mean, so he followed her suit. 

"You know Naruto," he stated calmly. "You know how many times he's been rejected. You also kinda know Sasuke as well: running away seems to be his kind of deal. Can you see them getting together like a pair of reasonable grownups? Talking about it and all? Being happy together? No? Well, there's your answer. Naruto tried going for the easy route this one time and only now he's realizing he didn't want it easy."

Temari's hand was shaking as if she wanted to hit him. But he knew her too well; this wasn't this kind of argument, it wasn't personal. It just hurt her because she was a mother and a wife like Hinata, and loved both her husband and her son. If they were talking about him and a random guy, he would had been dead for two years already. The random dude too. And Temari wouldn't even pay for a funeral. 

Maybe Gaara would. Yeah, he would.

The door slid open; Shikadai's little head poked in.

"Are you two okay? You're not fighting for real, are you?"

The tension in the room suddenly dispersed. Maybe because of the fresh air that got in and cooled down the atmosphere. Also, because of Shikadai's precious childish face they both cherished so much. He was an exact copy of his dad but had his mother's nose. Oh, and eyes. The eyes Shikamaru loved so much.

"No, stupid," Temari's hand stopped shaking as she took a calming breath. Shikamaru was suddenly reminded that Lee offered her some tai-chi classes for relaxation, and decided to talk her into it the next day. "I just... got a bit angry, 's all."

Shikamaru's eyebrows narrowed. "You weren't eavesdropping, were you, Shikadai?" That was certainly not a conversation he would like to explain to his son. Or for him to gossip about it with other kids.

"No." Shikadai came inside and showed his father one of the kunai knives. "This one broke. I threw it too hard."

Shikamaru started to swiftly analyze the weapon's fault. Its point was split into two, not very deeply, but the rest of the blade was chipped at the edges. The handle was broken as well. One conclusion came to his mind, remembering the wooden training board's quality, Shikadai's technique, and the quality of the kunai knives. "I think a target would be definitely a dead man after this. Good job, kiddo."

Shikadai grinned brilliantly.

"Okay, you two, it's time for bed," Temari's voice resonated, and it sounded completely relaxed. "You already overstayed the night's welcome, young man. You need to get prepared for tomorrow, uncle's coming over, remember?"

Shikamaru bowed to take the two wine glasses to the sink but stopped dead in his tracks. "Wait. What? Which uncle?"

"Well, Gaara, who else?" Temari rolled her eyes at him as she reached for Shikadai's hand to lead him to the bathroom. "Kankurō is too irresponsible to be called an uncle."

It's his birthday tomorrow, you moron, she mouthed to him and pointed at their son.

"Damn it..." Shikamaru sighed and decided on pouring himself yet another glass of wine instead of putting it away. And he was supposed to meet with Chōji and Ino tomorrow. He should look around for some gifts. 

Ino had a good eye.


	4. Chapter 4

It was market day and the streets were flooded with shoppers. People bumping into one another exchanging quick apologies—or not—children complaining, vendors crying out the best prices to lure the clientele in; all that in a scorching heat of a summer sun. The shops would be closed the next day, so everyone wanted to prepare for the week or tried to be quick about selling their goods to leave on holiday as fast as possible in the impending doom of upcoming record temperatures that were to suck every citizen dry. 

Sakura was the type to apologize for bumping into someone but on her fourth or fifth try at avoiding the overloaded crowd she just gave up. The heat wave that day was deadly; there were hands handling fans in her face alongside sweaty bodies, and the sound of heavy breathing mixed with the overwhelming noise of one of the busiest market places in Konoha gave her a splitting headache. Above all that, she was scared of losing Sarada in the flow of people and paid attention to the sweatiness of her small hand so it didn't slip out of her grasp by accident.

Despite the horrible noise, the abundance of people, and the headache, Sakura somehow managed to distinct one of the raised voices. One, teeny-tiny one, high-pitched and definitely complaining. As she walked down the street with Sarada crushing her hand, she half-turned to the left searching for a familiar face among the strangers. After a moment of a thorough search—as much as she was able to, considering the circumstances—she spotted Hinata under a weapons shop's sunshade. Her face was hidden in her delicate and manicured hands as she reminded Sakura of a person completely defeated by life. 

She did a double take. No, it was definitely Hinata.

But the raised voice did not belong to her. It belonged to her son. 

Boruto was yelling what sounded like absolute abuse at his mother with tears streaming down his round face. His cheeks were red, whether from the pure anger or the heat, or both. Sakura couldn't exactly hear what he was shouting as he tried to rapidly swallow saliva at the same time and constantly choked on his own words. Between the two stood Himawari, face pale, almost grey. Like a wall. Her fingers were clutching at Hinata's dress like a gesture of support, or loneliness amidst the confrontation. Sakura fleetingly thought of the sweaty stain that her hand would leave on that expensive silver-lined garment.

As much as she didn't think about it, Sakura stopped dead in her tracks. In fact, she stopped so abruptly, Sarada's hand almost slipped out of hers.

"Mom, what's wrong?" she urged, brows furrowed in confusion. "Come on, we're already late! And it's really hot."

She found herself at the crossroads. Again. Sakura had had many of such mind labyrinths as of late. Decisions to make that should not really depend on her, or destinies that did not quite matter to her. But decisions had to be made either way, even if they didn't concern her personally. Once more, at the crossroads. Should she intervene or walk by as if she had seen nothing? Sarada was right, they were already much too late for Shikamaru's son's birthday party, and she wasn't the kind to meddle with someone else's family problems.

It was such a remarkable scene to her; a steady flow of hasty people and the Seventh Hokage's wife among them, collapsed. Emotionally, spiritually, whatever it was. No one even paid any attention to her from what Sakura could see: nobody stopped to check on her, to ask if everything was alright, or to try and calm Boruto down. Everyone was in a rush. She was Naruto's wife but she was still invincible to most; just like when she was a shy Hyūga lady of the age of twelve, overpowered by her stronger cousin from the side branch of the family. 

God rest his soul. Sakura made a mental note of visiting Neji's grave in a near future.

Adding intrusive thoughts to the headache wasn't the best idea but Sakura simply couldn't look away. Hinata didn't move one bit, she was as motionless as a marble statue, hands never leaving her face. Even her long dark hair wasn't flowing with the wind like Hinata always complained they did, now stationary like an element of still nature. Boruto was like a tornado, a complete opposite; he jumped, kicked the trash around, and looked as if he was close to passing out in the heat if he didn't stop his obliterating rampage.

And when Sakura spared a look at Himawari it turned out the little girl was looking at her as well, straight through the crowd. Her big, blue eyes, inherited after Sakura's loyal teammate and friend—now the most powerful shinobi in the village—pleaded her for help.

She was instantly reminded of that one specific time Naruto asked her out. It wasn't anything serious, more of an inside joke between the two of them; a spring festival was nearing and he was trying to keep her company while she was wasting away yet another restless evening after losing Sasuke. 

_If you feel lonely, I can keep you company. If you want,_ he said. And smiled. _And if you feel bad, you can punch me in the face. Seriously, I wouldn't mind. Anything to make you feel better, really._

That visual reminiscence of Naruto's eyes when he said those words was what made Sakura finally make her move at the crossroads. She moved left, towards Hinata and her broken family while maintaining a death grip on her daughter.

The second she appeared beside them with a confused Sarada at her hip, Boruto stopped his tantrum. When Sakura paid him closer attention, she noticed a few stray tears entangled in the short hairs of his whisker marks. His eyes were so puffy he resembled a frog and could barely look up at her, oversensitive to the sun.

Hinata appeared to take no notice of her. It was as if she was stuck in time. Or a memory. And Sakura was instantly struck with anger. 

At first she thought she was angry at Boruto, but that was not the case. She was mostly angry at Naruto. Not even properly angry, mostly gut-wrenching upset. She did not know the specifics of the story behind this explosion of misery Boruto displayed but she knew it was about his father. When it came to Boruto, the context was always the same.

Sakura decided to smile despite the bile in her throat that was threatening to grow.

"Hi, you!" she chirped at him and ruffled his hair. "What's the commotion all about? I could hear you all over from the other side! I don't blame you, the heat is exhausting."

The curse was lifted and with it so did Hinata's head. Sakura was prepared for more tears—even reached into the inside pocket of her tunic to retrieve an emergency handkerchief—but Hinata's stare was... simply blank. There were no tears, no trembling mouth or runny nose. 

There was simply nothing.

Sakura felt her smile fall and gripped Sarada's fingers tighter.

"Hinata..." she started, voice dying a bit in her throat. "Are you feeling okay?" That was all she could muster at the moment. Her mind supplied her with a reasonable advice of not causing more commotion with Sarada around.  
Hinata blinked at her.

"No, I'm fine." Her reply was simple. Boruto was quite silent as well but not from remorse or shame. He looked like he was confused about the whole thing. "I'm sorry if we worried you."

Sakura was confused as well. Suddenly, a porcelain Hinata and her chaotic son felt like an illusion. Or like a dream. Both of them were acting as if nothing happened. 

Only Himawari's gaze stayed the same. Her eyes, just like Naruto's, were pleading her. Just like when Naruto pleaded her to go with him to that festival.

Feeling her jaw setting, Sakura decided not to prolong this absolutely weird scene, and decided to change the subject. "Are you guys going to Shikamaru's by any chance?"

Hinata nodded. Sakura noticed her delicate hand shaking as she brushed away a stray strand of hair from her eyes. "We stopped by the shop to look for some shuriken. Temari complained yesterday that Shikadai keeps breaking his training equipment."

"So I've heard," Sakura smiled. Cautiously. "Did you pick them up already?"

Hinata blinked. No response.

Sakura blinked as well. She felt a slight tinge of fear at the back of her neck. "Uh... the shuriken for Shikadai?"

"Oh," Hinata gestured timidly towards the shop. "Not really. You know..."

She didn't finish and, frankly, Sakura didn't want her to. Boruto was still quiet as a mouse, and Himawari positively terrified. 

"Maybe let's all go together?" Sarada's unsure voice broke through the tension. "I have my gift already but we can help you look." 

Sakura squeezed her hand. Maybe in a thankful way. Maybe she just needed some reassurance from her daughter and get back from the clouds and irrelevant assumptions that arose in her mind. 

"If you wouldn't mind...?" Sakura asked. Hinata stared at them blankly for a while, and then, again, sort of activated once more.

"Not at all!" she bowed slightly before the two. "That would be great, thank you."

"The pleasure's all mine," Sakura replied with another unsure smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it for now, folks. I'm going away for at least a week.  
> Thank you all so much for reading, the kudos, the comments and the subscriptions!


	5. Chapter 5

As soon as Shikamaru came to the dango restaurant to pick Shikadai up for his birthday party and leave the brother and sister alone to talk, Temari ordered a bottle of plum wine for the aftertaste. It was Gaara's favourite, and since his journey to Konoha was delayed for a day—due to reasons Temari hoped to be let on soon—she felt as if he deserved a moment of relaxation with his beloved drink. Not that he drank a lot. Or so she hoped. To tell the truth, she took a sudden likening to wine and had a fleeting scare that maybe it ran in the family, although she had no proof regarding that whatsoever.

The waitress came with the liquor, bowed very deeply before the Kazekage, and left rather quickly with Temari's gaze following her back to the kitchen. She threw her younger brother a calculating look but he seemed uninterested in the pretty girl, busy with pouring the drink into their glasses, hers first and then into his own.

She resisted a deep sigh. What was with men lately? 

"So," she started, taking the glass into her hand and smiling at him sweetly. "What's with the delay? You're lucky we decided to throw Shikadai a birthday party today instead of yesterday. Otherwise, both you and my workaholic husband wouldn't be able to make it."

Gaara took a sip before answering. "I'm sorry, I tried to deal with all of that as swiftly as I could, but I was very effectively stopped from having free time to pack for the journey. Thus, I had to delay it."

Temari waited for the further explanation but none came. This time she did sigh. Mostly to show off her discontent.

"At least tell me it was some nice girl that has stopped you from coming on time?"

Her brother licked his lips and caressed his bare arm absentmindedly. Even after all this time and numerous visits, summits or not, Gaara still wasn't used to the humid summer heat of the village, and that day turned out to be the hottest day of the year so far. The collar of his coat was undone and the sleeves were rolled up to the elbows, letting some air in and the vestigial comfort with it. If Gaara didn't wear his sand armour, he would be sweating buckets, especially in these stupid dark clothes he insisted on wearing. And he refused to unbutton the rest of his coat as well, even though he did wear fishnet underneath. 

Temari got used to the climate of this part of the world pretty quickly, and it hadn't been bothering her almost at all ever since she moved. If she had overcome pregnancy, she could overcome some humidity and heat waves. No big deal. Gaara was a more fragile sort anyway.

She knew that mindless arm caress of his, though. It wasn't because of the heat; he appeared tentative and she didn't like that one bit.

"Well?"

"In a way."

Temari's heart almost soared but she stilled the burst of emotion. She had to make sure.

"In a way, what? So it was a girl?"

"Yes, and her father."

Gaara was stubbornly staring downward, lips pursed and fingertips tapping on the table, non-rhythmically. Temari tried to mentally urge him to look at her but he wouldn't budge, almost transfixed with the wooden ornaments cut into the surface. It amused her, in a way. He was the Kazekage, after all, one of the most powerful shinobi in the whole world who could make the worst criminals bow to him and his biddings with a single look. Yet he was getting all shy over matrimony. 

It would be cute if Temari wasn't so continuously pissed off with him and his habit of turning down every marriage proposal he was presented with. The council pissed her off as well, just because they imposed their own ideas and opinions upon her little brother. It was a vicious circle, and there she was, not being able to pick a side because both of them were absolutely unreasonable.

Everyone pissed her off lately. Maybe she should take Lee's tai-chi classes after all. But Lee would piss her off as well with that excited and serene demeanour of his. That, and his... youth. 

"Okay," she tried to urge him on. Putting her elbows on the table and leaning forward she was prepared for dismantling every detail. "Who is she? Do I know her?"

"Yes." Gaara breathed in deeply. "Daimyo Otō's daughter, the one with the tattooed clan incantations on her face." He raised his hands around his face in a picturesque gesture. Temari nodded, furthermore curious. "Her father seemed in a hurry to marry her off, if you don't mind me speaking bluntly."

"Not at all," she shook her head. From what she could remember about the strange young woman was that she was dubbed the Hurricane of the Rōran Village, a soon-to-be legend of the Land of Wind. She had been on everybody's ears ever since she slew a clan of dangerous desert barbarians when she was a mere teenager, and, so it seemed, she came of age not long ago, ready to get married. 

Otō's daughter wasn't pretty at all. Bulky and muscular, she resembled a sand golem more than a young woman in her prime. Adding the not very flattering tattoos, oversized muscles of her body, and the delicacy and grace of an elephant, Temari almost spat out her wine when she imagined her in a wedding gown next to her slender brother.

She had never imagined she would think so but she hoped Gaara didn't say yes.

"Did you..." Temari swallowed, giving in to the thought that her brother may actually be insane. She cut herself off, imagining Gaara and the Daimyo's daughter together and decided she was scared of the picture that peeped over from somewhere in her unconscious mind. 

Fortunately, her beloved brother was quick to respond to her worries.

"I declined, Temari." Gaara shot her an incredulous look with an amused tilt of red-haired head. "Of course I did."

This was when she burst out laughing. He pressed his lips together, trying to keep from smiling, but his pale eyes shone with humour. Even making a little bit of fun of the situation wasn't really polite, especially for the Kazekage. Especially not about a not-very-attractive young woman he was implored to marry.

When Temari finally calmed her hiccups she sipped on the wine and wiped a lost tear from the corner of her eye. "Oh, Gaara. You scared me there for a second. I thought that maybe you were still insane somewhere deep inside."

He let out a silent chuckle. "You know my thoughts on marriage, sister. I'm not really keen on it."

She leaned more heavily on the table and raised her fingertips to tiredly massage at the temples. "I know. I forgive you for passing on this one. It would be one gem of a marriage, though."

Gaara's tightly sealed lips trembled and Temari swore that one time she would make him laugh at something inappropriate. She wouldn't be a good sister if she didn't try to destroy his image at least once. Once a year, that is.

"How about you, Temari?" He inquired, finishing the second glass of wine and pouring himself another. She eyed his hand, thinking of the amount of glasses that would make him more willing to talk about relationships and his love life. "Everything between you and Shikamaru stable? Shikadai looks rather well. The same goes for your husband."

Maybe he had a 'Sasuke', like Naruto, and that's why he insisted on staying single? Nah, scratch that. Temari didn't want to get angry again and that would be plainly stupid.

"It's his birthday and he got a cool gift from his favourite uncles, of course he looked happy," she smiled but frowned after a second. "Beat Kankurō up for me for not making it today, by the way. At least you took his gift with you."

"He requested an A-ranked mission near Kiri and didn't manage to finish it in time," Gaara explained apologetically and sat up on his knees. He had complained once about them getting sore from sitting too long. "I should've remembered about Shikadai's birthday and made a connection."

Temari's hand stretched out to him in a stopping gesture. "No, don't apologize. It's difficult to arrange a quick journey here. You said he requested it personally?"

He shrugged. "Maybe he met someone there."

"Maybe he should be the Kazekage."

They looked at each other at the same time and contemplated that for a moment. Then they both shook their heads.

"He would drink too much on the job and have trouble with the paperwork."

"And fall asleep at the desk," Temari added, smiling fondly. "I miss that dumbass and his stupid painted face. He should find himself a girlfriend here so he would visit more often. Or maybe move here for good."

"That would leave me all by myself in Suna against the council. That's selfish, Temari."

"Then maybe you really should find yourself a wife."

She managed to get Gaara to roll his eyes at last. She was waiting for it. That meant he was on the very edge of being tired of the topic.

"Temari, I do not want a wife. That's final."

"But you want children, right?"

He looked at the table again. A few seconds passed. "I'm... not sure." He crossed his arms in defense.

"Well, you know the drill. You had sex-ed," she teased. "You want babies, you need to make them. Like me and Shikamaru."

Gaara made a face at her and finished his third glass. He looked dehydrated, and his armour started to look almost papery. She decided to drop it for the time being and for his sake. 

But, she decided, she would find the reason. Sooner or later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Really sorry for the delay, I hurriedly had to take up a job at an amusement park and sometimes I work for 12 hours a day. It was really difficult to scribble in the meantime when my brain was shut off. I don't know how often I will be able to post new chapters although I don't plan on abandoning this piece, in case anyone's interested. Anyway, enjoy the new stuff.


	6. Chapter 6

"Do you want another piece?"

Ino murmured an answer without really hearing the question, too busy watching the children play in Shikamaru's garden. Leaning over the kitchen's windowsill she observed Inojin as he chased after Sarada and Boruto with a bandana tied around his head and obscuring the view. He almost tripped and the kids laughed, alongside Inojin himself.

She never remembered having a childhood this carefree. She couldn't decipher whether she found gratification or sadness in that thought, however. They were all born in the time of peace, whereas she and her teammates, loyal companions, have been warned about the cruelty and viciousness of the world since they were babies themselves. When she was her son's age, she knew which flowers and plants were poisonous, which poison killed the quickest, and which one painfully boiled bloods of enemies. She learned how to get out of a death grasp, how to look for traps or how to run as quickly as possible to outrun danger. At that time, she has already seen people die, people dead and people in-between life and death. Blind eyes and rapid breaths, clinging to life, shouting profanities about not wanting to leave, about wanting to stay. Complaints about losing eyesight, taste, the sense of touch. Paralyzed bodies, dismembered bodies. 

Conflicts, missions, wars. Ever since she was like five or so.

Meanhwile, Inojin was still confusing his right hand with his left hand, and no matter how many times Ino tried to persuade him about the real state of things, he wouldn't listen. He took personal offence when Sai struggled to teach him to draw. He wasn't a very patient kid. 

Ino felt a nudge against her elbow. When presented with a plate full of cake, her eyes went wide for a moment, confused.

Sai narrowed his eyebrows even though his usual smile stayed the same. It made him look amused, and he probably was. "You said you wanted another, don't look so surprised."

Sighing, she hung her head between her shoulders and then shrugged. "If I keep eating like that, I'll get fat."

"So what?"

Ino turned away from the window to look her fiancé in the eye. "I'll get fat and ugly, and you won't want me anymore," she half-joked, but took the plate anyway. She didn't know yet if she planned to eat it or not. Her tongue screamed _yes_ , but her mind and stomach yelled _no_.

"I would be with you even if you got fat and ugly, although I doubt it," Sai planted a delicate kiss on her forehead. She smiled as he nodded towards the cake. "You can leave it for later, or take back home with us."

"Sure. So Inojin eats it instead when no one's looking?" Ino snorted and shot another wary look towards the group of kids. After a swift calculation, she noticed that one of them is missing.

"Where's Boruto?" she asked quietly, more to herself than to Sai. 

Sai looked out the window as well. "I don't know. Maybe he went to the bathroom."

Just as Sai closed his mouth, Boruto came into the kitchen; his t-shirt was outstretched from all the other kids grabbing at each other and with multiple grass stains visible on the fabric. Ino tried for a smile although she didn't really like the kid. 

Scratch that, she liked him but just because he was Hinata's son. And Naruto's, of course.

"Hey, hon," she chatted him up. "Everything alright out there?"

Boruto ignored her and went straight to the fridge. He opened it and, after a moment, he turned to Ino and Sai to present his disgruntled expression. "Juice is missing."

"You wanted some juice?" Ino asked and went to the fridge to look for herself. She took out a bottle of blueberry juice. "There's still some. Do you want it in a cup?"

"No, not that juice," Boruto stated and crossed his arms. "The cactus juice."

Ino exchanged confused expressions with Sai. She didn't even know there was cactus juice. She put her head back in the fridge to look around some more but there was indeed no juice of that flavour. "Well... what's wrong with blueberry?"

"I like blueberry," remarked Sai, casually. "You can leave it out, I'll pour some for myself later."

"I wanted the cactus juice."

Ino sighed. "Sorry, there's none. You sure you don't want blueberry? It's really good." She didn't really have to ask to make sure, Boruto wore an expression of someone who had just been offered a living twitching worm instead of candy.

Boruto was once more opening his mouth, probably to complain some more, but Sai butted in. "I think Temari said that Gaara took some of the bottles to the cellar because they didn't want to fit in the fridge."

"They buy way too much food." Ino shook her head. "Would you go down and check then, darling?"

Sai smiled at both of them and was gone in a second. 

"Uncle Kazekage brought the cactus juice?" Boruto asked curiously while still watching the doorway where Sai disappeared. He was chewing his lip, something that Hinata tried to wean him away from but fruitlessly.

"Yep. I even heard that he made it himself but those may be just rumours," Ino answered and automatically went to ruffle Boruto's hair. Her hand stopped several centimeters over his head. She leaned it against the fridge instead, nonchalantly. "So, you having-"

"He looks a lot like uncle Sasuke."

Jeez, was everyone an uncle to this kid? Ino rolled her eyes. "They may be a bit similar, yes." But then she caught on what Boruto said. "Wait. You've actually seen Sasuke?" 

"Mhm. Like two or three times. My dad talks about him a whole lot, telling stories about where he was this time and what they did together," Boruto sniffled and reached to wipe his nose with the back of his hand. "They are friends, I think."

Ino's whole body tensed as she remembered Hinata's shivering hands during their girls' evening out with Sakura and Temari. She could clearly picture in her mind how empty Hinata's stare was as she talked about Naruto and his fixation over Sasuke, how she played with the wedding ring. Took it off, put it on again, and again. 

Sheesh, even she herself wasn't so obsessed with Sasuke back in her teens as Naruto was now! Not even Sakura was that crazy and she married the Uchiha, for goodness' sake.

Putting the whole seeing-a-friend's-child-multiple-times instead of seeing-former-teammates-at-least-once thing aside—which was just plainly rude, but then again, it was Sasuke—she wondered where exactly Boruto saw him. Did Sasuke come to the Uzumaki household? Did Naruto specifically brought Boruto with him to a meeting with Sasuke to show his son off? Or to show Sasuke off to his son? 

If Sasuke came to their home, was it when Hinata was absent? She never mentioned Sasuke coming over ever since Boruto was born, so probably.

"Does Sasuke visit you guys a lot?" Ino asked warily, not wanting to bemuse the boy. 

Boruto shrugged. "Not really. Dad brought him home once when mom was out with Himawari, shopping or playground, but I see him mostly at dad's office by accident."

"Wander there a lot, huh? Naruto complained you ruin his office once in a while."

Despite a cheerful tone, Ino's blood was running cold. So Hinata didn't know about Sasuke being at their house. While Boruto was grinning cheekily at her, she sorted through the intrusive, chaotic thoughts to try to choose the best approach at obtaining more information from Hinata's son without seeming suspicious. 

"So what do you think about Sasuke? He's cool, isn't he?" she asked and leaned back against the counter. Instantly, Boruto's eyes shone like little insect wings reflecting the morning sun.

"He's _super cool_ ," he said, almost enamoured. "I want to be like him when I grow up. He's so mysterious and... and smart, and..."

"Yeah, he's mysterious, alright. Did you play with him when he was over at yours?"

Boruto shot her an incredulous look. "Uncle Sasuke wouldn't want to play with a kid like me. He's serious and has important stuff to do."

While cataloguing Boruto's words for later sorting, Ino fell silent, wondering what to ask him next. However, it turned out she didn't really need to.

"He brought me a book, though." His hands went for the plate with Ino's cake on it and he put it close to his chest, ready to dig in. "It was cool but... confusing. Some... phusics. Or something. I didn't really look at it yet that much."

Of course that Sasuke would give a kid a book on physics theory applied to training, if he was to ever give gifts. Ino fought the urge to roll her eyes again. "Sasuke really did pay close attention to the way physics worked in battle," she recalled.

"Like what?"

"Like, you know," she moved her hand as if she was throwing something. "Like how to throw a shuriken or kunai knives to, like, hit a target that was behind a tree. I think that was something his brother came up with and he tried to copy it."

Boruto's jaw dropped to the ground. "For real?! And he did that?"

Ino's smile was tight. "He sure did."

"I wanna do that, too!"

"Well then, you gotta train, mister."

He pouted without trying to conceal it; Inojin sometimes tried to hide the offense because Ino constantly made fun of him for being upset at stupid things. Kids these days. Ino narrowed her eyebrows. All they wanted to do was to have fun and have no responsibilities. Back when she was a child... 

"I decide that I like uncle Sasuke more than my dad likes him!" Boruto blurted out of the blue, nonsensically, as if his mind shut off and began with a subconscious thought first upon restarting. "I do for sure! There's no way my lame dad would be real friends with such a cool guy."

Ino was amused and terrified at the same time at the sudden outburst. "Wow. Does your dad like Sasuke that much that you want to compete with him?"

"I think so," Boruto sniffled again but didn't wipe his nose this time. She could see a shiny spot under his pert nose. "Dad likes him enough to hug him, I guess. Like he hugs mom."

Ino swallowed.

"What do you-" she started but Boruto ran past her at the speed of light as Sai came in with a box full of juice. The boy seemingly lost interest in Sasuke as he was handed a bottle and immediately went back outside with a loud exclamation of "Cactus juice!" so everyone in the neighbourhood knew what kind of beverage he had.

Ino's heart was beating so fast she didn't register Sai coming closer and pouring himself the blueberry juice he wanted. Naruto hugged Sasuke like he hugs Hinata? What does that mean? She didn't have the chance to ask. Damn Sai. Would that just be friendly hugging or... 

"You wouldn't believe the cellar Shikamaru and Temari have," Sai said and drank the whole glass in one go. "It's absolutely massive. I swear I looked everywhere and it turned out to be buried under two boxes of wine. I can't blame Gaara though, with so much stuff in one place I wouldn't know where to put anything myself."

Ino was looking at Boruto through the window. He was back to playing tag with the others, cactus juice spilled on his already ruined t-shirt. Hugging? "What time does Sakura come back to look after the kids?"

Sai had an almost inappropriately good memory and he was usually the one to remember things like dates, time, and appointments, not her. Her memory was exceptional as well, but she only used it for intel and work. With exceptions of course.

Sai shrugged and poured himself another cup. "She said that she had an emergency package to retrieve at the hospital and a patient she wanted to check up on. And that she would be back around two. It's no problem, we can stay a bit longer, can't we?"

Ino grabbed him by the arm. "Go fetch Sakura at the hospital and tell her to come quickly. If she can, of course. She must. I can take care of the kids on my own for a moment."

"Did something happen?" Sai touched her hand. 

"I just..." Ino took a deep breath. "I just need to talk to her. Now. Was it..."

...Hugging or kissing that a child's mind cannot process as actual intimacy but instead treats it as another type of a hug?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for sticking with me! Originally, I wanted to put another scene here, but decided to write another one as the first one didn't really fit the timeline quite yet.  
> I'm so happy y'all like train wrecks.


	7. Chapter 7

"No, your fingers are too tight." 

Sakura put her hands on Tenten's and guided them back above the center of the unconscious man's chest. "Don't strain them too much or you will get uncomfortable in no time."

"I can't help it," replied Tenten, blowing a lock of hair out of her eyes. Her temples were getting damp from sweat and a few individual hair got stuck to her skin, making it tingle. "It's different than just, you know... kicking ass on a battlefield and stuff like that."

Sakura giggled. "This is a part of _stuff like that_ , Tenten. A very important part, too." 

Tenten saw her grit her teeth while trying to stop their joined hands from shaking but to no avail. Compiling and keeping such amounts of chakra in one place for a long time while remaining absolutely focused was horrendously difficult for Tenten who usually worked with rapid releasing of the chakra energy that was entrapped in scrolls. But Sakura couldn't possibly know; she had always been exceptional at being focused and precise. Unlike Tenten. 

"Okay, rest for now. Good job," she heard Sakura say, and so she did let go.

Tenten released the chakra and took her hands back, wanting to get away from the patient as quickly as possible in case she was about to hurt him. Huffing, she sat down in a nearby chair. "I suck at this," she stated bluntly and pouted, keeping her gaze on the clean, white floor.

"You've only started a week ago," Sakura shrugged and went to the sink to wash her hands. 

Tenten felt intimately sorry for covering her delicate fingers with endless amounts of nervous sweat she produced over the unconscious guy. "I've always sucked at it," she reminded, remembering when she had tried to emulate Tsunade and become the best medic-nin to date. She had failed miserably at that, from the same reason she was failing now: she just couldn't seem to focus.

"Then you're gonna get better." Sakura came back from the sanitizer to check on the patient. Leaning over him, she sent Tenten a smile. "Personally, I think Iruka was right to send you in for some medical training. You have what it takes." 

Tenten nodded politely and looked at her own hands. The skin was dry—aside from the sweat, which was evaporating now—knuckles and the tips of her fingers bruised and red. She had taken the bandages off for the medical classes which Sakura was kind enough to offer her, and so all of the painful training reminders were brought to light.

Just before the practice started, Sakura complained that regular shinobi still failed to attend medical training which was to be compulsory by now, or so Naruto had promised. Even with the period of peace, we should be prepared for everything, she had said while Tenten had been meditating and re-discovering the chakra network in her hands. 

_Did they really learn nothing from the war? And the old conflicts? That's absurd. So many shinobi and barely a small percentage of them knows how to actually perform a first aid medic-nin practice._

_Even Naruto doesn't know the principles of first aid._

"Yeah, I know," Tenten closed her eyes and breathed in deeply. "I hope I won't mess up. And that I won't disappoint you guys."

She cautiously opened her eyes to look at Sakura, but Sakura was still smiling from her spot at the table; her hands were once again enveloped in the green light of chakra as she went back to neutralize the internal damage of the man's organs. Her legs were slightly spread and her elbows bent just right. 

"Well, now you sound like Lee," Sakura scolded her gently but her gaze was sturdy and focused. "Medical training _is_ engaging and very demanding. On top of that, as an adult, you have to be on twenty-four-seven alert around the kids."

"You would definitely know, you're a mom," Tenten groaned and leaned back in the chair, relaxed but still observing Sakura's technique. "You're a natural at this. Me, however..."

She didn't finish; it wasn't a ground she liked stepping on. 

From Tenten's point of view, everyone in Konoha went crazy all of a sudden. The craze started to emerge around seven years ago or so - everyone she knew started getting married some time after the war ended. First it was Temari and Shikamaru, which was to be expected because they fancied each other for a long time. Then, somehow, everyone started gathering into pairs and becoming couples that, eventually, would turn into married couples. Married couples with kids. 

In the meantime, Tenten was still alone in all this, feeling too much like a child to pursue a serious relationship. Well, maybe she wasn't feeling like a child deep inside but she definitely treated herself as one compared to her friends. While she called all of them crazy, she was also a bit jealous and tended to let her mind wander to abandoned places whenever she saw a lovesick couple or was third-wheeling at a meeting with her teammates. At the same time she wanted this kind of intimacy with a fantastical person of her choice, but on the other hand, she was afraid she would turn into- That. That crazy, mystical, Parental Figure who had truly no idea what was going on anymore and was ready to panic about anything, really. 

"You're about to become a teacher, it's a very similar thing." Sakura's sure statement got Tenten out of her thoughts. She now transferred her hands from the center of the patient's chest to a spot just below the middle. 

"Except you don't bring them home afterwards and feed them, and read them bedtime stories."

As Tenten was about to respond, Sakura cut in again: "Oh, by the way, how is Lee doing? I haven't seen him in a while, and when I mentioned him, I realized I kind of..."

Don't say _forgot about him_ , Tenten clenched her jaw tighter.

"...Gosh, I don't know. I guess he slipped my mind with Sarada and... and Naruto, and all," Sakura finished and forcefully—for Tenten a little bit unnecessarily—released her chakra. She wiped the sweat from her brow and placed her hands on her waist. She was assessing the patient. "He's gonna be fine. I think I'll check up on him tomorrow as well. His intestines need some more thorough stitching, even though I managed to stop the internal bleeding the other time."

Tenten frowned. And sighed. "I hope I didn't make things difficult with me being shit at it?"

"No, not at all. He's been stable so far, and he still is," Sakura sat down beside her and put a hand on her shoulder, reassuringly. Giving her a little shake, she added: "I specifically assigned you someone you couldn't easily hurt. Don't worry that much, okay?"

Tenten shrugged with one arm. She did feel kind of reassured in terms of the dreaded medical training. But there was something negative impending, and that was the sense of emptying disappointment. Sakura had forgotten about Lee altogether and, if that wasn't the most hurtful thing one could do to a friend, she forgot about him once again after just having mentioned him. What was even more horrible—and shameful, too shameful to admit—Tenten had forgotten about Lee as well. Until recently.

They were all so used to having Lee around—usually at his favourite training grounds, with Gai, or exploring new restaurants that were opening recently—that they didn't really notice when he had disappeared from their lives. While Tenten and probably everyone else loved Lee to bits and would let themselves be chopped to pieces for him, Lee had this unfortunate charm of draining others of energy and time. He was so loud, and serene, and positive all around the clock, at times it was unbearable to stand, especially with other people getting married and having personal problems with each other or their children. People started to have _real_ problems, and Lee just wasn't fitted for anyone's tastes anymore. 

To tell the truth, the only people who had kept in touch with Lee was Tenten herself and Naruto. Naruto rarely had any energy deficits so spending time around Lee didn't do him any harm, and he genuinely liked and respected Lee; very often had Tenten seen the both of them eating together and talking animatedly when Naruto had a break, or having a friendly spar in the middle of the day. Meanwhile, Tenten felt like Lee's older sister, or even his mother despite them being the same age. She kept him in check, made sure he ate well—since he tended to eat quickly and unhealthily when he was in a rush—and conversed about life and whatever topics he wanted to talk about or deemed essential. He also had the infinite force that was Gai, the first person Lee ever truly trusted and was in mutual respect with, but Tenten was something else entirely. She was his peer, a woman, and a teammate, while Gai remained a mentor and a father figure. As much as thinking of Gai and herself as Lee's prototype parents wasn't fully comfortable to her, at times it truly did feel like having a family. Neji was also a part of their weird little set, back when he was still alive, although she considered him more as a moody cousin than a close brother. Maybe that was because Neji had a real family, and Tenten and Lee only had Gai and each other, being orphans and all. 

Sai came through the door like a cold storm and slammed the door wide open. Tenten, deeply lost in her thoughts, only gave him a lazy look, but Sakura jumped out of her chair as if she was ready to attack anyone that came through that door.

"Hi-"

"Sai? Aren't you supposed to be with the kids right now?"

"Ino asked me to get you. She said it's important."

Sakura grabbed herself by the elbow. Tenten noted she seemed very tense all of a sudden. "Did something happen with the kids?"

Sai breathed out heavily. It's possible he had been running here, Tenten thought. 

"Not to my knowledge. She just said to ask if you could come back earlier and change me while you're at it. Told me to go home and get you instead."

Sakura stood up. "All that rotation is just unnecessary," she said but was already heading to the shelf she had put her purse on before meeting Tenten. "I said I would be back in an hour, didn't I? What's the rush?"

"She just asked to come get you earlier. If you can." 

To Sai's defense, he seemed lost in this sudden chaos as well. He spared Tenten a wary look. She shrugged. "Don't look at me. It's not me that's keeping her."

"We're finished here anyway, so I guess I can leave a little early," Sakura added. She took out a comb out of her purse and proceeded to sloppily brush her hair. "Gosh, Ino always has to panic about everything. I bet it's not even that important."

"She looked quite concerned, if you asked me." Sai's reply sounded unsure. He held the door open for Sakura who was still combing through her hair and didn't keep her eyes on the way out.

When Tenten didn't move from her spot, they both stopped at the threshold. 

"Are you staying, Tenten?" Sakura asked; she was fondling with the purse's zipper to put the comb away. "I don't recommend staying extra time, you know, you'll get sick of this place anyway."

She finished the sentence with a giggle but Tenten just shook her head. "Nah, you guys go ahead. I'll stay here for a while. It's peaceful here."

"With an unconscious guy on a bed?" Sakura made a strained face. She seemed a bit... Tenten couldn't tell. _Moved?_ But that was probably because of Ino. 

Tenten forced a smile. "Sure, whatever. I can even out his pillow or something. Don't worry about me, seriously. Say hi to Ino from me."

Sakura nodded. She waved goodbye despite being almost out the door. "Well, take care, then. Meet me tomorrow for an extra practice, okay?"

The last sentence was yelled out because both Sakura and Sai already disappeared behind the wall, so Tenten didn't bother to reply or wave back. She leaned back with a sigh and tried to force a warm tear to stay behind her eyelid.

She hadn't seen Lee in around two weeks but Sakura wasn't interested enough to know. He was simply nowhere, or so it seemed at first; he wasn't answering the door when she came knocking, he wasn't practicing kicking at the training grounds, and nobody saw him around in a while. At first she figured he was away on a mission but Naruto disproved that theory when she came around to ask: Lee had actually resigned from any missions he was assigned to for an indefinite period of time. When Tenten asked for a reason, Naruto said that Lee wasn't very precise on that, and that he had no clue whatsoever. Afterwards, she turned towards Gai for intel or advice; she figured that if it wasn't anything deadly serious or overly secretive, Lee would let him, out of all people, know for sure. 

Gai was calm and collected when she visited his house. She remembered Kakashi making tea for all three of them and Gai declaiming as if he was reading a script that Lee was, indeed, home, but he simply didn't want to see anyone at the moment, and that she should respect his privacy if that was what he needed. Then, they drank their tea while discussing Tenten's admission for the academy and Gai's health, and she left. Defeated and concerned to death.

She'd always been a person Lee could talk to about anything, and now he didn't want to see anyone? Not even her or Gai? Scratch that, he went to Gai for a talk; if he didn't, Gai wouldn't have known that Lee was even home. That made Tenten slightly less agitated but more curious if anything else.

Tenten sat there in a plastic white chair of a hospital room, the silence only ever broken by the continuous beeping of the patient's heartbeat monitor. She mused about Lee, Sakura, Ino and her last-minute engagement with Sai, and whether she herself did something wrong. Not only about Lee but also about life.

She sat there until Sakura's next student came in and asked about her teacher's whereabouts. 

"Medical class?" Tenten stood up and evened out her shirt. "Cancelled today."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It seems that I keep writing longer and longer chapters.


	8. Chapter 8

Shikamaru thoughtfully rubbed the bridge of his nose, as if it would help to bring his mind back to reality. On the other side of the table sat Chōji, playing with his food and squelching it loudly in between his lips; the constant grunts of his delight over barbecued pork meat were, to say the least, incredibly distracting. The sound of clutter coming from the kitchen and the choir of conversations around them didn't help much either.

"Chōji, I'm trying to think," Shikamaru sighed and pressed his fingers tighter around his personal business pen. He rolled it between his middle finger and his thumb, and tried to re-read the third page of the document for the umpteenth time. Chōji finally swallowed the mouthful and pointed across the table with his pair of chopsticks. 

Just like Shikamaru had a special pen—given to him by no one else than Chōji himself as a congratulation gift for becoming Naruto's advisor—Chōji had a precious pair of chopsticks that were handcrafted and painted in the silvers and reds of the Akimichi clan. He kept them separate from other utensils and disposable chopsticks, barely let anyone else touch them, cleaned them thoroughly after every meal, and had them on him all the time, like a wallet or house keys. Or an amulet.

"Told you so," he said, while already looking for another piece of meat to swipe off the hot grill. "Never take any documents to a public place. Especially a restaurant."

"I know." Shikamaru kept on reading the document; his eyes moved quickly over the endless lines of text. "But my house is overrun by an army of kids, Temari is with her brother somewhere, and we had planned a dinner earlier today anyway. I thought I could kill two birds." 

From under the lashes he saw Chōji shrug in carefree disinterest. Chōji rarely got passionate about something that wasn't food. Or his wife. And he never feigned interest. Ever. That was one of the assets Shikamaru liked most about his friend. He never really faked anything.

"It's a proposal from Suna, right? Naruto could've organized this better, seeing how they are friends and all," he provided neutrally and Shikamaru silently agreed with that. 

Naruto didn't even tell Shikamaru about the meeting; Gaara did, right after he came to their household with three boxes of wine.

Chōji reached for another piece, threatening to spill some fat on the paper. Without averting his eyes, Shikamaru gathered the scattered pages closer. "Naruto has a lot on his mind lately," he added, like an afterthought. 

Shikamaru would never say it out loud—his heart hurt whenever he as much as thought about it—but Naruto hadn't been an exceptional Hokage so far. He had done good deeds, but more as a hero of Konoha, not as a factual leader. As his advisor, he heard complaints, some simple whining and more serious threats; excusing Naruto seemed like an automation of a sort. He'd been excusing him very often lately: to other Kages, to civilians. Even his own wife, for goodness' sake.

"Like what?"

Shikamaru's eyes stopped at a word " _imposition_ ". "What, _like what_?"

Rolling his eyes, Chōji swallowed whatever he had in his mouth. "What is Naruto so concerned with that he forgets to give his most important advisor the most important documents?"

The tone of his voice and the gaze he spared Shikamaru were very... pointed, if amused. Shikamaru looked around the restaurant, suddenly panicked; they were stepping on dangerous grounds, too dangerous to speak openly in public. 

The couple next to them had been looking in their direction but quickly averted their eyes. 

He inclined his head towards them. Discreetly. "How about no?" 

"No worries." Chōji's voice dropped to a loud whisper. "Ino told me everything anyway."

Shikamaru finally gave up and dropped the pen to cover his face with his hands. They felt cold and slightly damp. Obviously, if Ino knew something, she would tell all her closest friends about it. It was stupid of him to assume that she would keep quiet about Hinata and her personal problems. He must tell her to try and keep her mouth shut. If somebody uncalled for heard about this and it spread further, Naruto could have real problems, especially when his term of office didn't look so peachy.

"And speaking of Ino," Chōji continued. Shikamaru peeked from between his fingers. "What do you think of the... engagement? Her and Sai's, I mean. It was sudden."

Oh, yes. If Chōji was interested in anything else other than food and his wife, it was Ino's life. Love life, to be precise. After mentioning her name, Chōji's jaw tensed; Shikamaru supposed he wouldn't reach for another piece with his fancy chopsticks anytime soon.

After the war, Chōji was so desperate to start rebuilding his life after the disaster, that he didn't really think his feelings through. He was bursting with affection for everything and anyone that was left alive. Shikamaru wasn't sure whether Chōji had really fancied Ino—he had never noticed, and he had an eye for detail—or whether he was just desperate to bring someone closer, afraid to lose another friend. Ino, however, being her critical and honest self, didn't hesitate to reject his advances, which Shikamaru found actually quite comforting. He was happy, relieved even, that Ino wasn't the type to gift Chōji with an imaginary sense of security for the sake of building imaginary comfort, knowing how she felt after losing her father. 

To be honest, Chōji had never had any real chances with her in the first place; Ino had her heart in the right place but, when it came to looks and attraction, she was as shallow as a shell.

That was why Shikamaru hadn't been entirely surprised when he had learned that Ino started dating Sai. Chōji, on the other hand, had been a tad upset. 

_He was, in fact, so upset that he had stopped eating._

_"Did my dad send you?"_

_"Chōji, you can't... not eat." Shikamaru sat down on his knees next to him; Chōji was holding his stomach, squeezing the abundance of fat, almost scratching at it. There was a whole table of food in front of them, but Chōji refused to look. The feast looked as if it was designed for the strongest of the titans, not one silly, broken man._

_"She doesn't like me because I'm fat," Chōji retorted. He had no shirt on, and desperately tried to hide his naked body from his friend even though Shikamaru has seen him naked more than a dozen of times. "She's always told me that I should lose weight. She's right."_

_Shikamaru refrained from rolling his eyes. "Dude, it's_ Ino _we're talking about. You know she talks out of her ass sometimes. Very often, actually. Why do you keep listening to her?"_

_Chōji looked him straight in the eye at that moment. "I'm fat, Shikamaru. It's the truth. And I did not choose this. My family did."_

"Shikamaru?"

"Hm? Sorry, I got lost in thought."

_"And she knows that," Shikamaru reached his hand across Chōji's big back and brought him closer. Chōji's head rested on his shoulder. He was trembling and his body felt hot to the touch. "She does. Your body is your power, Chōji, everyone knows that and admires that. You can't let one person take that honour from you."_

_"Sai's body has more power than mine. She doesn't admire mine."_

_Shikamaru was afraid Chōji would start to cry._

"I've never been entirely sure..." Chōji cut himself off. He was looking at the pieces of meat but didn't search for any to eat. His eyes were blind to food. Once more. "I'm not sure what exactly happened. Between them."

"Between Ino and Sai?" Shikamaru took the pen back into his hand and tapped it on the table three times. "I think she said that she has fancied him for a while, and decided to try it out. I don't think- It wasn't very complex or complicated."

_Shikamaru caressed Chōji's naked arm. "Ino has her own ideals. You have to respect that, Chōji. Don't try to kill yourself over it, it's not worth it."_

_"But why didn't she even give me a chance?"_

"So it wasn't like a big romance or anything, huh. I rarely saw them together, now that I think about it."

Chōji's voice started to get raspy. Shikamaru breathed out heavily through his nose.

Shikamaru dared looking down at the document. He really should hurry. Gaara was to leave the day after tomorrow, in the morning. The meeting couldn't possibly be postponed because his friend had a painful flashback or possibly—hopefully not—a moment of horrifying anxiety. 

Which he had, too. The flashback.

_"You were a valuable friend to her," Shikamaru continued. His gaze was fixed on all the food displayed on the table. Pork, ribs, barbecue. Kimchi, wasabi, sweet dangos. Delights, ecstasies. Nothing gave off any scent whatsoever. "You still are. And she is yours. Why not try to stay that way, maybe? Maybe forcing the change upon natural things is not going to end well, anyway."_

"I know. I'll shut up." Chōji stood up from his seat, the meat left forgotten. His enormous body emerged wholly from behind the table. "I have to go to Ino's. To..."

Shikamaru stood up with him and reached across the table to touch his friend's arm. He wasn't about to stop him, not at all. "Say hi to Chōchō from me. I hope she had lots of fun. And take care, my friend."

"Will do," Chōji gave him a warm smile and put his hand on Shikamaru's smaller one. "Good luck at the meeting tomorrow."

"I feel like I'm gonna need it."

They laughed, exchanged another joke or two, and Chōji eventually left. Shikamaru watched his retreating back for a moment, feeling the shivers of reminisce crawl down his spine, and drowned in it.

He sat back down and returned to the document but couldn't regain his focus, still underwater.

_"Can something be natural if it was pre-organized by our ancestors?"_

_"What do you mean?" Shikamaru leaned back a bit to try to find Chōji's expression._

_Chōji seemed contemplative to say the least. He looked as if he was hypnotized. "Ino-Shika-Chō, Shikamaru. Our friendship has never been natural."_

Wasn't it? Shikamaru pressed his pen against the document; the last line was designed for his signature. He watched the black ink seep into the paper, like a weeping wound. But they stayed together, didn't they? 

And their children will probably face the same fate.

The nib of Shikamaru's pen broke.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you so much for sticking with me and for reading my depressive stuff. And the comments and kudos! Love them!  
> The next chapter is when things will start to hit the fan so... stay tuned?


	9. Chapter 9

Her brother came, tumbling down the stairs. 

Temari raised her head; he was meticulously fixing his sleeves and double-checked the clock on the wall. She silently blew on her green lemon tea over the newspaper from Suna, for which she had been subscribed to ever since she left. Shikamaru never tried to dissuade her from keeping the interest, even though he sometimes sighed like a martyr whenever she got angry or passionate over the contents of the journal.

"Are we leaving already?" she asked, trying to rid her mind of the poorly written piece of dreadful fiction that the council tried to sell as reality. _"Is the future of our village really secure?"_ , said the headline of the article and Temari was shaking her head in disbelief throughout the whole thing. Idiots from the idiotic council who had never even tried to accumulate at least a fraction of understanding towards her brother and the civilians or politics who supported him.

Gaara frowned at her. And at the paper. He was still fiddling with the cuffs. "I don't think they will mind us being late if you want to finish." He inclined his head towards the table at which she was seated at but was looking specifically at the mug. Temari glanced at the headline again.

_Is the future of our village really secure? More on the demission of one of the Kazekage's most trustworthy and advocated council members on page 3._

Pigs. Temari clenched her teeth.

"No, I'm ready," she seethed and stood up from her seat, tea and headline forsaken. "You got everything you need?"

Her brother nodded and motioned towards the front door. "Shall we force on with the proposal, sister?"

Temari grinned at him and moved the file towards the edge of the table for Gaara to grab. She went around the table for her giant fan. "Hell yes!" After fastening it onto her back, she held onto a lingering briefcase—which Gaara wanted to take but _no, she got it_ —and added: "Let's do this, _broski._ "

As they strode alongside Konoha's busy morning streets, they were quiet, almost pensive. Temari presumed Gaara's mind was devoted to the upcoming meeting; after all, he did not even pay attention to the civilians, the ones bowing to him hurriedly before quickly removing themselves from his strenuous gaze, that is. Usually, he would be embarrassed—in his own unique way—and tell everyone to straighten up and not be silly, which Temari had always found endearing but also to an extent reasonable. Still, now, he was clearly lost in thoughts, and Temari felt the innate need to physically guide him by holding onto his elbow. Gaara did not shake his arm out of her reach, so she presumed he did not mind and maybe even was thankful for it.

She had to admit; it was so gratifying and nostalgic, in a sense, to hold onto her little brother like that. To embrace him with company, to touch him in comfort, to convey readiness to help and be by his side. To smell the sand, and the desert wind that came with his clothes. To feel closer to her initial home. Temari looked at Gaara's profile with fondness only known to homesick older sisters. He held his head high—as usual, like a distant leader should, she supposed—but his gaze was fixed downwards, face bearing a—small, barely there—confident smile. She noticed that her own lips were pulled into an ugly frown.

_Hold onto him. Even if just for a little while._

Temari’s over-occupied mind sparked a sudden terrifying realization that she had never told him she was proud of him. And she was so _so_ proud. She made an apologetic mental note to share her awe with him later. After the meeting, she decided, and the frown loosened a little.

She tried to mimic her stoic younger brother and tried to focus too, but an overpowering wave of anger constantly threatened her rigorous mind. It wasn't as much anger as a simple irritation at the back of her neck at the sole thought of entering Naruto's office. As long as she remembered, as a Konohian citizen, Naruto hasn't really done anything worthwhile and recognizable with his honour of being seated as the Hokage. He passed a few non-revolutionary bills here and there, took care of the transportation within the village, and mostly focused on the new approach to the new generation's education by introducing obligatory medical exercises and a purely theoretical approach for kids who would want to specialize in research only. Oh, and he was overpowered by the growing number of referenda that came his way from the council.

Temari would be much more tolerant of the educational affairs and more forgiving towards the stupid mistakes if it wasn't for the fact that so many new fields and branches of study did not really matter in today's day and age of peace, leisure, and luxury. What was the point? Was there any reason to expand these areas of expertise? Temari didn't know that for sure but deep down she did not think so, either. She'd always been observant, especially in an essentially foreign land, and now her analytical skills were on high alert.

On top of that, there was a real struggle between Naruto and the Council of Elders which, despite containing mostly newly selected members—younger members as well—did absolutely not approve of his poorly maintained term of office. It would strongly remind her of her own brother's conflict with their own council if it wasn't for a teeny-tiny detail: Gaara knew what needed to be done and he fought for it, never mind the opinion of the elder mucus that clogged the spaces of the office. And it did pay off in the long run. Meanwhile, Naruto had absolutely no idea what he was doing and for what purpose. He was fumbling around in the dark, like a child he was, treating documents and his position as fantabulous toys to play around with. And the council saw that. The civilians did, too.

Shikamaru tried to outdo himself in a humanitarian way and help Naruto as much as he could but at the expense of their private family life and his own free time; Temari thought that in the long run it wasn't worth it. No matter how much sweat and tears had Shikamaru poured over endless files, bills and vetoes that Naruto did not have the ability to read or understand, it was clearly and simply unjust. 

"I know what you're thinking."

Temari whipped her head around, almost surprised to find herself walking beside her brother which was naturally self-evident. Gaara's eyes locked with hers, binding. She imitated his faint smile, albeit falsely. "How so? I thought I was... _impenetrable_ , was it? Was it you that called me that once? Or was it _impervious_?"

"That would be _dense_ , and it was Kankuro's choice of an epithet. But, yes, I do," he argued as they stepped on the stairs that led to the Hokage tower. "You're thinking about Naruto. Every time you think or talk about him, your expression turns extremely sour."

Temari shook her head on instinct. "No, I—"

"It's fine," Gaara replied calmly, gently taking her by the forearm. "Just do not think ahead of yourself, Temari. Prejudice is destructive. Don't forget yourself."

With that he entered the ingress to the tower and they were enveloped in the darkness of the corridors. Even though they could barely see where they were stepping, both Temari and Gaara could easily maneuver the building even with their eyes figuratively closed, being here so many times in the past.

Temari stopped midway the corridor that lead to the meeting room, and Gaara followed her with his eyes, head, and then body, freezing altogether in a standby.

"Temari?" he inquired. She pursued her lips. "What's wrong?"

"I'm just—" she started but abandoned the process of speech altogether, finding it somewhat nonsensical. She gazed down at the freshly polished floor and tried to get her mind sorted into place. She was vaguely aware of her brother approaching her and of his hand on her shoulder. When she finally looked up, his face betrayed concern. The last thing she wanted at the moment was for Gaara to lose his focus too, so, equipped with her sister-like abilities, she breathed out and tried for a warped smile that was meant to reassure him.

"I'm just... wary." There. An honest confession. "Naruto is not a good leader, and I'm afraid that he won't be willing— because he doesn't know what he's doing—and you..."

There she was: babbling out of the blue, complaining. Gaara's eyes narrowed, searching her face. She stopped herself. She should had said so before they left. _Such a good big sister you are. Idiot._

His hand on her shoulder moved to the back of her neck. The expression on his face softened from the frown. "Naruto is a dear friend of mine. And we are here to build the future. Don't let doubt cloud your head, Temari. I'll be there with you, after all."

"For Suna," she added, quietly. And quite formally.

He nodded. "For our people."

His hand dropped and he turned around towards the meeting room door. She listened. When he knocked on the door and was let in, she followed without a word.

The room was not vast or very spacious but it contained a broad round table with a dozen of chairs all around it. Temari glanced at a white board that was hanging loosely on the opposite wall and on which her husband was writing something in an intelligible gibberish of what he called handwriting.

Upon their arrival Shikamaru turned around and released a breath he seemed to be holding in for a while. "Oh, you're here already. Come in, come in. Take a seat or something."

Gaara approached the table and scanned the room, putting his hand on one of the closest chairs. "And I trust Naruto isn't."

Temari couldn't resist a sigh of her own. Shikamaru rubbed the back of his neck. The writing on the white board remained unreadable. "I guess he's running late. Sorry about that. I read all the necessary documents you both provided so... maybe we can start without him. We can brief him later."

"Brief him?" Temari crossed her arms on her chest. Gaara didn't spare her a glance. "What do you mean? You're telling us he didn't even read the memo?"

Her husband shrugged and raised his arms to the sides in a worldwide gesture of I have no idea. Then, he came around the room and sat down on a chair next to the one Gaara was holding onto. Temari felt that if she sat down as well, she would pierce through the wood to the floor below and beyond, that was how heavily tense she was.

"You know Naruto," Shikamaru said in that typical apologizing manner he learned after becoming Naruto's right hand in politics. Which he used a lot. "He has a lot on his mind and a lot of work. Plus, he's the same old Naruto who tends to be everywhere and nowhere at the same time, you know."

"This better not be a side joke on his abuse of shadow clones," Temari challenged her husband's apologetic gaze that matched the tone of his voice. "I heard stories of how he would just _disappear_ from not only the meetings but also _family dinners_. You know, with his _family_. Dinners that Hinata cooked."

Gaara regarded Shikamaru as well, looking mildly bewildered. "Does he really do that?"

"Sometimes, yeah." Shikamaru did seem embarrassed about it. Temari thought it was ridiculous he was taking it personally. She still didn't sit down. "Look, do you want to start or prefer to wait? I don't mind either way. Naruto will be here sooner or later."

"We might as well start," Gaara nodded and inclined his head towards his sister. "Temari, would you pass the briefcase, please?"

With her jaw clenched, she grabbed the briefcase from the floor and put it on the table. When Gaara proceeded to open it and take out the documents, she mulled over the fiasco this meeting proved to be already. Naruto couldn't even be bothered to formally greet his long-time friend, for goodness' sake, and Gaara travelled for a while to get there. Hell, he had to postpone several pending meetings about other matters—the rebuild of infrastructure and a dangerous inner conflict in their homeland—to come here as quickly as he could. The council was not happy about that at all. In their opinion, Suna was never going to thrive.

Temari snorted. They should see the mess Konoha began to be and then try to judge.

Shikamaru took a small, handy recorder out of a lockable drawer and put it on the table, close to Gaara and his own seat. Then, he took his own copies of the proposal out and spread them neatly on the surface. With both sets of documents from both sides prepared, he put his hand on the device.

"Ready?" he asked. Gaara agreed silently, and so did Temari.

After turning it on Shikamaru reached his hand for a blank sheet of paper. He started to speak, carefully over-pronouncing, while simultaneously writing with his formal pen:

"Today is... July, the thirteenth... meeting room in the Hokage tower. It is... eight hundred eighteen hours... and the meeting with the Fifth Kazekage starts about... now. So, to take it from the start, the pending sides of the proposition..." 

And so it went.

An hour passed. Temari was still the only one standing in the room; she observed the outside world through the windowsill while adding her thoughts here and there upon being asked or not. At one point she noticed Rock Lee with some sunflowers in hand, his pace quick and focused. She wondered what prompted this race but eventually she shrugged it off. It was Lee after all.

"So what you're saying, Lord Kazekage, is that there were indeed options presented for the Daimyō of the Land of Rivers and that he refused every single option?" Shikamaru mused, pen pressed into the paper, the recorder running. His forehead was shining with sweat, his gaze focused. Temari slowly shook her head in disbelief, not very surprised; her husband was essentially doing that dense failure of a Hokage's work, doubled due to his own scribe duty. The Hokage is the one who is supposed to lead the meeting, not the closest assistant, unless there was an official excuse and a formal agreement of both sides. That was utter nonsense and she was not surprised.

But, boy, was she getting progressively angry.

"That's correct," she heard her brother say. "The Daiymō refused to even look over the majority of deal proposals that me and my council have presented. That is why I decided to turn to the Land of Fire and to Konoha, dare I say the Land of Wind's finest ally to date."

"I see." Shikamaru took a moment to scratch at his beard and to look over what he had previously written. Gaara was observing him, patiently. "We haven't discussed the matter of your borders yet, Lord Kazekage. From what we can interpret of the map, there is a fine coastline in possession of The Land of Wind and your Daimyō. What seems to be the problem over there?"

Temari noticed Gaara's nostrils faltering slightly. He started pushing his fingernails into the table's surface, gently but firmly and continuously scratching as if it personally itched.

"Suna has experienced hostility and the lack of co-action from the tribes that live over the shore."

"And what about the uninhabited coastline?" Shikamaru waved his pen around. "Or are there any hostile tribes living alongside the rest of the border as well?"

"There are, yes." Gaara crossed one leg over the other and gestured with his hand, responding to Shikamaru's pen. "The southern regions of the Land are also occupied by clans that do not speak our tongue. We cannot communicate with them properly at the moment—although my specialists _are_ constructing a mixed langue right as we speak—so the immediate shoreline would be the only available option for the project. Alas, the hostile tribes are ready to kill on sight and are not willing to negotiate."

Shikamaru stopped writing and looked him dead in the eye. A bead of sweat rolled down his forehead, and he swiftly, almost professionally, stopped the recorder. Temari's back straightened. "I didn't hear about that. Is that a new situation that's going on?"

Gaara eyed the device. "Yes."

"What happened?"

"The tribes are profoundly traditional. They do not approve of the technological advance of the present day. They deem it 'cursed' and us 'damnable' for using it. I think they are afraid we could pass some sort of disease onto them." 

Shikamaru nodded. After no further explanation was presented, he went to turn on the recorder again. "In any case, feel free and invited to ask our shinobi for any help."

"Will you manipulate the tape?"

"I will." Shikamaru cleared his throat and restarted the recording. "From the official proposal introduced to Konoha's office and to Lord Daimyō of the Land of Fire, I quote—" He turned a page and brought the copy of the official proposal closer. " _The reason behind the foundation of the underground ci-_ "

The door to the room opened violently and, upon the force, banged against the wall. In the assistance of dust falling from the ceiling Naruto came in, huffing and puffing, the Hokage cape askew, and the dent in the size of a doorknob prominent.

"I'm late, aren't I? Shit," he ran his hand through his hair and approached the attendees. "I'm sorry. Really sorry. Something came up and I just couldn't come sooner. Where were we? Hi, Gaara, how you doin'? Trip okay?"

Both Shikamaru and Gaara were staring at him in silence, processing the grand entrance. The recorder kept buzzing on, cogs turning, unlike the cogs in Temari's mind that got stuck and refused to work. Her eyes went from Naruto to her brother who raised from his seat and greeted Naruto with a warmhearted embrace. Shikamaru tapped his pen three times against the recording device. Temari blinked twice to try to stop herself from fuming.

"We're in the middle of the meeting already, Naruto," Gaara scolded him gently and offered him a seat. In his own office. Temari's hand clenched on her knee. She blinked once again. "You were provided with the memorandum, correct?"

Naruto's gaze fixed at Shikamaru. _Memorandum?_ , Temari read on his moving lips that made no sound. Shikamaru sighed heavily, she followed suit.

"That piece of paper about what Gaara came to deal with us?" Temari saw Shikamaru's hand hover over the recorder for a second but it moved back to the table. He wasn't about to stop the session, then. "Sit down, dumbo. I gave it to you two days ago, before Gaara arrived. He sent it by post."

"Ah." Naruto sat down. "Yeah, that. That. So, uh... what is this all about?"

"It was all in the memo," Temari chimed in, unable to hold back anymore. The blinking thing didn't work and the accusation scratched her throat. "You know, they exist to not waste anyone's time during the meeting?

"So, like, everyone knows beforehand what they gonna be talking about, right?" Naruto asked. Shikamaru nodded, looking sideways in Gaara's direction. The Kazekage was politely silent. "If that's that then, uh, no. I didn't get a chance to read it."

Shikamaru's pen jumped against the table. "You didn't read it?"

"No, I— I, uh, I didn't. Sorry."

"What do you mean you didn't read it, I gave it to you two days ago—"

"Oh, no, wait!" Naruto looked up at the ceiling. " _Mmmm_ , the briefing thing I can remember. Was it something about the, uh, lending our part of the waters for Suna's distribution or something?"

Shikamaru's back fell against the backrest, a healthy breath of relief leaving his lungs. "Good. Okay. So you did read it."

"Yeah, now I remember. I just needed to run my memory. And, I'm afraid, the answer is no, Gaara. I thought I'd cut it short to save us some time."

The temperature in the room, despite the day being a regular hot summer day, dropped a couple of degrees. Shikamaru stayed resting against the chair, his face contorting into an expression of utter confusion with a mix of doubting what he had just heard. Temari's mouth opened, almost in horror but also at what she thought was vulgar impudence. Her brain clogged with varied thoughts of _How dare he_ and _What the hell_. 

Gaara was the only one to remain neutral. 

"May I ask why that decision?" he asked, voice impassive but with a slight timbre of uneasiness. Temari saw him eyeing the recorder for a moment. Naruto's lips swelled with an exaggerated breath. 

"Sorry, but you know how it is. Gotta protect the land and the people, right? I decided to keep the lands for our future use and to, maybe, expand Konoha a little."

Silence. The only thing Temari heard was the buzzing of the recorder and her own teeth painfully grinding together. _Let your brother do the talking._

"Naruto, wait." It was Shikamaru's turn to sort himself out, both his mind and his position on the chair. Temari saw that his hands got sweaty as well. "That's... not exactly how international politics work."

"What do you mean? Wait, honestly?" Naruto dismissed that with a wave of his hand. Three sets of eyes followed it suit. "Never mind, don't tell me. I've already made my decision."

"But— that's—no, okay, let's actually talk this through," Shikamaru bravely insisted and grabbed his copy of the proposal, pushing it towards Naruto. "What about the proposal made you decline so early? It is a good deal for our village, and for our daimyō."

Naruto pushed the document away without even looking at it. "Don't patronize me, Shikamaru. Money is not everything, I came to learn that as a leader." _He's so pleased with himself_ , Temari thought. "Trust me, I know what I'm doing and I'm doing it for the good of the village."

"But the daimyō already _agreed_ to the deal!"

"I don't care! Write him a letter or something. We are not doing this."

"Naruto, for goodness' sake—"

"I am also working for the sake of my people," Gaara interrupted firmly and brought the proposal closer once more. One corner of Naruto's lips tilted upwards. Temari caught a flash of amusement in his blue eyes. "This is what this proposal states. My people are in dire need of a new water distribution plan. Aqueducts, to be exact. I was thinking of building underwater cisterns to filter the gathered waters and, in turn, to increase the quality of it in my lands."

"Sure, I get it," Naruto shrugged. The paper was pushed away again; it creased grotesquely in the middle. Temari swallowed through the bile in her throat. "Sorry, but your people are not my concern. I know we are allies and all, and friends, but I gotta think of my own place. I don't want to give you any my waters."

Gaara froze, frowning. He put his hand on the proposal. Very protectively, in Temari's eyes. "I'm not taking them away, I simply want to share ownership of them. In exchange for money. Our waters lack in potassium and magnesium, and the underground wells are drying out."

Naruto shrugged again. "And I decline. End of story. Shall we end the meeting now?" 

The room went silent. Temari started to count from one to ten in her head, to occupy herself with something other than blinding anger. Alas, as it seemed, this proved to be just the countdown.

"Your friend just told you our people might _die_ of dehydration in a small while, and this is _all_ you have to say?" Temari hissed through her teeth. She felt her chakra leak through her pores like a steady waterfall, and her hand itched for the wind of her deadly weapon. 

Naruto, who was seated with his back to her, turned to look over the shoulder. The look in his eyes betrayed that he completely forgot she was there, and was surprised to hear her talk.

"I'm done with this joke," she continued. "Explain yourself to us, members of our community, people of our motherland," she took one step closer to Naruto; even if she didn't mean to look threatening, she knew she couldn't help it. "Explain to us why you'd rather have us starve and suffer from malnutrition than to agree to a profitable _shared damn ownership_."

"Well," Naruto started, as if he was explaining why he didn't bring any coffee home. "I did some thinking. I think I wasn't doing so well as the Hokage... and giving up parts of our land doesn't strike me as something a good leader would do."

Temari snorted a half-laugh through her nose. Looking over the table at her husband, she felt her upper body jerk, hands turning palms up in an urgent manner. "Are you really going to let that happen? Just like that?"

Unfortunately, Shikamaru seemed to be unable to utter even one word at this revelation. Even while angry, Temari understood it perfectly. He was a fine tactician, some say the best, and he could not possibly foresee this. He only focused on the logical outcome and dismissed the absurdities. And this was an absurdity like no other.

Meanwhile, Gaara turned quiet and still, as if someone charmed him into a statue. Temari wondered what he was thinking at the moment. She screamed at him in her mind to wake up, to rebel, to do something, anything. _If you still have it in you, find the source of hate that used to drive you. Instead of fighting against your people, fight for them. Please, Gaara. Or I will freak out._

But, her little brother seemed to be processing the current situation. When she swept her gaze over his legs, she noticed he was kneading the material of his trousers, like a kitten. Thinking, thinking, _thinking_. 

Everyone was silent. But only Naruto seemed to be content.

Temari approached her brother's chair and stood behind it. She put her hands on Gaara's shoulders, squeezing. "You don't care about people at all. Not our people, not yours." She leaned forward over Gaara's head, her stomach pressing against the parietal part of his skull. "Hell, you don't even seem to care about your own family."

Shikamaru's eyes went wide. "Temari—"

"Shut up," she snarled at him; Naruto's shoulders popped, the tendons on his neck tightened. "You heard me. You think it's only the civilians that complain? That Hinata doesn't complain to us? You think it's all high and dandy, and meanwhile she cries her eyes out when you're not around?"

"Sh— Don't you bring my wife into this." Naruto tried to go for a calm and collected tone of voice—maybe he tried to bring out a reasonable leader within himself—but it did tremble at the word _wife_ , and, alongside the progressive growth of fangs in his mouth and the sudden overflow of powerful chakra, betrayed the complete opposite. "Hinata does not _cry_ because I'm away from home a lot, this is clearly bullshit and you're trying to stir this mess with some of your weak lies. For what purpose? Why?" he took one step closer; the closest chair jumped a bit into the air. Temari swiftly eyed the distance between him and Gaara's chair. "I _forbid_ you from speaking like that about my marriage."

"Oh, sure, _dear leader_ ," Temari mocked, only vaguely aware of her fingers digging into Gaara's collarbones. This was quickly getting out of control but she couldn't care less anymore. He needed to hear this at last, and _to hell_ if it was her to tell him the truth. "If you ask so nicely, I won't mention Hinata, but maybe you'd like to discuss that Uchiha cripple that you _busy_ yourself with after hours?"

Naruto's mouth dropped. "What did you just—"

"You heard me. Maybe you want to explain in detail to Gaara what's going on between you two?"

She felt Gaara's head slightly tilt upwards, as if asking her what she meant or to wordlessly warn her, but before she could say anything more, the chair Naruto had been sitting on flew backwards and his white Hokage cape floated above the ground, taken by that transcendent red chakra of his. If the room's temperature had actually lost a few degrees before, now it was twice as suffocating.

"You— You stay away from my private life. From my wife, my children, _and_ from Sasuke." His eyes flared dangerously red. "You have no say in it, no idea about it, and neither you're welcome in it."

"You don't _have_ a private life!" Temari's stomped her feet against the floor; the glass in the windows trembled, as did her brother's shoulders. "You're a Hokage! The whole population of this godforsaken place rests on your shoulders, and you treat it all like a playground?!"

"Just how many referenda landed on your desk this week alone? Guess what, I know exactly how many because everyone talks about it. Just like everyone talks about Hinata." That last part wasn't exactly true but Temari treated it as such in this circumstance. "And you know what they say? They either shake their heads or they laugh. They are _disgusted_. _We_ are disgusted."

Temari sensed Naruto was reaching for her throat even before he actually did; she also perceived her husband's cold, liquid-like chakra move through the space to prevent it. Shikamaru's shadow possession hit Naruto at the same time as a thin spear made out of sand appeared out of nowhere, threatening to pierce Naruto's own neck if he moved even the littlest bit further. 

The time seemed to stop. Naruto's lower part of the stomach was almost compressed into Gaara's forehead, and his bandaged arm stretched towards Temari, wishing to grab, trying to cease her theory. She herself was frozen in place behind Gaara's chair, head high to avoid the attack but sneering at Naruto at the same time from under her lashes. Shikamaru's stance was stiff, tense, hands joint to form a technique that successfully trapped the Hokage in one spot; he seemed terrified of what happened, traced with guilt. _Not your fault, love,_ Temari said inside her soul. 

Gaara, on the other hand, was the only one still seated, the spear growing out from the floor between his feet and directed straight at Naruto's exposed and pulsating jugular.

They remained in such a scene for ten, maybe twenty seconds.

"Step away from my sister this instant, Naruto," Gaara finally murmured from beneath Naruto's shirt. 

Naruto grunted at him and shot Temari another angry look. He seemed contemplative, something Temari would never fathom he could be."Let me go, Shikamaru." He uttered, straining away from the spear.

Shikamaru hesitated.

"You heard the man, let me _step away._ "

The technique was called off—with a noted slight delay—and Naruto's feet landed gracelessly back on the floor. He regarded the remaining spear with an emotion that, to Temari, spoke great _contempt_ , and took a big step back. Stretching his arms to the side, he asked: "Happy now? She was the one who started, you know."

Gaara peremptorily stood up from his seat. Temari started to back away towards the door. She knew the meeting was finished. "I propose to postpone the discussion for now. In the meantime"—he switched his gaze from Shikamaru to Naruto—"I implore you to sort yourself out. That was highly unprofessional and way out of line. Especially for a friend."

He then proceeded to bow, politely, in Shikamaru's direction. "Thank you, Shikamaru, for your help and assistance." After a small hesitation, he added: "I never imagined I would ever say this to you, Naruto, but... I hope you feel _ashamed_ for your actions."

With that said, Gaara left the room. Hair bobbing in the air as if it was a last comeback, Temari went promptly after him. Not another word or a glance was spared the two remaining shinobi. 

Shikamaru looked at Naruto, breathlessly. Naruto's gaze was glued to the doorway, mouth still opened in seething anger, fangs bared. Shikamaru could clearly see Naruto's racing pulse beneath the skin. Skin which could had been pierced that morning.

"From now on, I want your wife to _step away from the office until further notice_."

And the recorder kept doing its job.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SO SORRY FOR SUCH A DELAY.  
> I was struggling with this chapter (re-written it like 4 times because it just kept being _not right_ but I think I finally managed); plus, a lot of things have happened in my life since October, like therapy sessions and an actual job where I can get paid for writing creatively.  
>  I can almost promise such a delay won't happen again because I don't think I yet plan to write such a difficult scene in the near future, so I won't postpone the process so much.  
> Anyway, after the lengthy explanation, enjoy the continuation of the train wreck. Love every single one of you for commenting, leaving kudos and subscribing!


	10. Chapter 10

It was afternoon already and Sakura was crouching at the Hyūga family tomb tidying the white lilies as Hinata requested. She was thinking about bringing some white orchids on her own but Hinata warned her that the grave was abundant with vegetation already. _"Just... rearrange them a bit. Please"_ said Hinata while busying herself with some laundry, and Sakura could not possibly object to that. Especially when she seemed to be embarrassed for asking such a thing.

Sakura smiled sadly as she brushed some dirt off of Neji's grave. His name stood honourably engraved into the white marble, charmed into the cold and the unmovable. "Sorry it's me that's bothering you. I bet you wish Hinata had a moment to come. She's busy with your nephew and your niece today."

She dropped the duster on the ground, just next to the pot with fresh extra ground and a small shovel, and sat down on the soft grass in front of the tombstone. Bringing her knees up to her chest she sighed loudly and craned her head back, watching the white clouds lazily pass by.

"Do you miss this world, Neji?" she asked—stupidly, in her opinion—feeling the overwhelming doubt clutter the spaces in her brain. "Or are you happy you left when you did?"

That was a hypothetic question that Sakura was mulling over in her own brain, thinking of how to respond to that herself. And she took her time, feeling the damp ground beneath her thighs and the soft sting of grass on her skin.

Sakura stared, almost meekly, at the dirt between her sandal-clad feet and asked with all her heart: "Do you still feel love for us, Neji? Or did you move on? What’s it like up there? Or wherever you are."

After no reply—obviously—she dropped her head between her knees. "If you only knew what was happening... what would you say to all of us?"

She reminisced about the fevered conversation she had had with Ino yesterday, how her friend grabbed her by the hands and forcefully dragged her into the kitchen, children yelling “Hi, Sarada’s mom!” after them and her daughter following her with surprise, and how sweaty Ino’s face was in the bright light of a hanging lightbulb. Sakura shook her head, allowing herself a little grimace of discontent at the memory. _Gosh, Ino, what were you thinking? And to drag Sai into that as well? Tenten was probably wondering what was going on, too; I left so quickly as if my house was on fire. And... it kind of is, I guess? Maybe?_

Reaching back, she put her hands on the ground and leaned on them heavily, letting out a silent sigh. She was painfully confused. Puzzled. She had a lot on her mind lately: the newly formed medical education program of which she was the originator and the lead instructor of the trainees on top of that; she had to take extra care of her daughter, bear the weight of being a parent almost entirely on her own. Because Sasuke was away.

 _Was he? Maybe he’s around more often than you think._ Ino’s voice rang loud and clear inside Sakura’s head, and she tried to will it away. She shook her head again, and went to the previous position, as if her whole body cramped at the thought. She buried her face in between her knees, and hugged them tight. _What is going on?_ Sakura was never the one to jump into conclusions; that had always been Ino’s area of expertise, despite her brains and intelligence. She just liked the _drama_ , she supposed. And, well, if what Ino had said was true, there would be a whole lot of it in the near future.

Truth be told, Sakura felt quite disconnected from that affair, and she wasn’t sure why. She definitely, wholeheartedly loved Sasuke, he was her husband and her lover, even if he wasn’t around much and they had not been intimate ever since Sarada was born. This whole situation honestly felt for her more like a teenage gossip that children entertained themselves with to make their life spicier. Sasuke having a top secret affair with Naruto, the current Hokage, did seem like a very brave plot of someone’s overflowing imagination. Could that be true, though? Sakura did not know. Did she mind? Not exactly. Maybe because it was so improbable and just simply crazy. 

If they were... why now? Why now, with both of them having wives and children of their own? What would be the point of that? Could they really be that selfish deep inside? 

“Pass some of your knowledge to me, ‘cause I think I’m losing it,’ she whispered to no one in particular, since it was only Neji who listened to her and he could do nothing. 

Sakura would probably stay in that hurtful position—her lower back and neck did start to hurt a bit—for a while if it wasn't for the energetic tread that she heard behind her back, and which was definitely approaching the same spot and tomb she was sitting by. 

She looked over her shoulder. Her eyes went wide. Her mouth dropped.

“Lee?” she asked dumbly. 

And indeed. Rock Lee was standing mere feet from her, in the bright sun of a summer afternoon, gripping a bunch of sunflowers tied neatly with a yellow ribbon. Ino’s personal handiwork. 

He was chewing on his bottom lip, back stiff. 

_Why does he look so uncertain all of a sudden?_ she wondered.  
“Hello, Sakura,” he responded, very politely, as always. Switching his weight from one foot to another, he kept looking back and forth between Sakura and Neji’s grave. “...Pardon my boldness, but may I ask what you are doing here?”

Sakura was still dumbstruck, mainly because she hadn’t seen Lee in whole weeks, and she would had never thought they would run at each other at the graveyard of all places. The second thing that made her lose her ability to speak, was that Lee wasn’t wearing his bright jumpsuit at the moment. Dressed in green tracksuit trousers and a simple dark top, and standing with those sunflowers with bandage-wrapped fingers made him look surprisingly distant, as if he was almost someone new. And Sakura, surprisingly as well, didn’t necessarily dislike it. It was an experience she felt she needed. Somehow.

 _What is happening in this world?_ she asked herself quietly in the chambers of her soul.

“I was, um...” she stuttered and gestured awkwardly towards the pot. “Tending to Neji’s grave. Hinata asked me to do it because she was busy today. I replanted some lilies that she had gotten from Ino’s shop a few days earlier. It’s getting kind of crowded here with all these flowers.”

Lee nodded. His hand, the one holding the bouquet, dropped an inch. “Neji had always liked the lilies Ino grew with her mother in their family greenhouse.”

“Yeah, he had. He also bought them every two weeks for his father’s grave,” Sakura added. She moved a bit to the side. “Do you... want to sit down or something?”

He seemed to hesitate. “Of course,“ he said eventually and clumsily dropped next to her left hip. _Awfully tense_ , Sakura noted as her gaze skimmed over him quickly. His skin seemed even drier than usual, eyes—which he tried to avert from her medical gaze—were bloodshot and slightly yellow. _And awfully looking, too._

It was like ages had passed since the last time they had seen each other, probably in passing. Maybe she was going shopping or returning from the hospital and she saw him training; maybe they exchanged smiles, maybe Sarada was with her and ran to say hello. It was like ages passed because everything changed so much, so rapidly. And while one would think that Lee would always stay exactly the same, until the end of time, the reality played its cards differently. The reality that was escaping her eyes as she gazed on, worried.

But, for some unknown reason, it did not seem right to ask Lee about where exactly he had been this past few weeks, and about what had happened. 

_If he wishes to tell me, he will_ , she told herself and solidified it. 

“It is nice of you to help Hinata,” Lee spoke and smiled delicately, as though he wasn’t sure he was allowed to. “And also extremely thoughtful to keep my lovely teammate some company as well.”

“I always appreciated Neji’s company, so I’m returning the favour,” she responded and reciprocated the smile. It was genuine. “Even if he was a bit... too serious and sometimes stiff. And we didn’t spend that much time together anyway.”

“I can bet that if you had only spent some more time with him, you would come to appreciate his somewhat... _dry_ sense of humour.” Lee looked up at the sky, as though looking at his late teammate’s face there, gazing back. “He could actually be very funny when he made an effort, especially when Tenten dared to pour alcohol in his beverage. He would be laughing and joking before he knew what hit him.”

Sakura let out a laugh. “I didn’t think Neji drank anything stronger than over steeped white rose tea.”

“That is true, but only because it was strictly forbidden within his clan to drink any type of alcohol that was not ceremonial.”

Sakura hummed in acknowledgment. Out of the blue, her mind supplied her with the memory of Neji’s lifeless body, pierced by that cone-shaped piece of rock as it fell into Naruto’s arms. Hinata’s tears. Naruto’s terrified blue eyes. 

She felt all the blood leave her face, and she turned it away from Lee.

“I understand,” she heard him say. Of course he did. “It keeps coming back to me as well.”

“I could’ve done something. I was there. I am a medic.” But she knew it wasn’t exactly true.

“The damage to his intestines and chakra points was irreversible, Sakura. That was what Lady Tsunade declared post-mortem. Do you not remember?”

Sakura nodded wordlessly. Oh, she remembered, alright. 

They sat there in silence for a while, burdened by the memories of blood, death, and insane, infinite dread. At that moment she felt as if she was back there again, among the dying bodies, fighting for survival and comradery. Looking into the emotionless rinnegan eye of Kaguya, that filled her with overwhelming fear and a pending, inevitable then, sense of doom. 

She remembered holding and squeezing Naruto’s hot heart so it could beat on its own again. Its squelching, wet sounds. A heart that would keep on loving Sasuke, her husband.

“Are you unwell?”

“I... just need some rest, I suppose,’ she said and tried to smile. “A lot has been going on, you know.”

“Ah, yes, the new medical education program,” Lee hummed in realization. “That is understandable. You must have a load of work on your hands.”

“Yeah. Tenten signed in. Per Iruka’s request.”

“How is she managing?”

“Quite shit but she’s getting better at it.”

Despite the curse word thrown in there for emphasis, Lee huffed out a laugh. He had always been too polite to swear on his own, his biggest “rude” phrases being “hell” or “damn it”, and Sakura remembered that when he was younger he would often scold everyone around, back when they were slowly and unsurely easing into swearing. 

_Good times_ , she decided.  
Lee straightened his back and reached towards Neji’s place of rest with the sunflowers. After putting them there—and making sure they are precisely in the middle and positioned within the perfect angle—he moved to get up.

“You’re going already?” Sakura asked, hoping he would stay.

“Yes. I am afraid I have something to tend to. Just like you had the flowers to take care of.”

But when he dusted off his trousers and turned to leave with a final _Goodbye, Sakura_ , he stopped dead in his tracks, gazing ahead, hypnotized. Sakura looked up at him and turned her head as well, curious as to what caught his attention. 

Well, another surprise, she thought as she noticed the Kazekage in the distance. Will these damn surprises ever end?

Lee bowed deeply when Gaara approached them. “Hello, Lord Kazekage.” 

Sakura didn’t say anything herself. And she thought Gaara found that with gratitude because upon hearing Lee address him so formally, his barely-there usual smile turned into a vast grimace that took control over his whole face.

“Please, Lee. You know I forbade you from calling me by my title ages ago.”

“Uh, yes, I know. However—"

“It was almost fifteen years back. Loosen up a little.”

Sakura heard Lee swallow loudly and blush; he dropped his head in evident embarrassment. Some things were never about to change, Sakura supposed.

Gaara put his hand on Lee’s stiff, muscled shoulder. “Relax, my friend” he shook it delicately for emphasis. “My apologies to the two of you for such a surprise visit. It seems I came about purely accidentally.”

“What do you mean?” Sakura asked, still seated on the ground. “Weren’t you supposed to be at the meaning with Naruto now?”

Gaara’s lips tightened. “I was. The meeting ended early. I came to visit your comrade’s grave as per usual. I can’t say I don’t appreciate seeing you two here, though.”

Sakura and Lee exchanged confused glances. “Did you want to talk with us?” Lee asked and Gaara nodded to that.

“I came to ask about Naruto.” He reached out his hand towards Sakura. “If you don’t mind, that is, Sakura.”

She grabbed it and stood up with its help, looking him dead in the eye. “Why? Did something happen at the meeting?”

Gaara didn’t look away from her strenuous gaze. Lee was looking back and forth between them. “It might have.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy late Valentine's Day!   
> See, I'm actually able to post much more quickly.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here's another piece of your favourite train wreck!  
> As always, bless y'all for the kudos, comments, and for the sole reading of course!

Hinata fought the urge to cover her ears with her hands. The silver bracelets on her wrists jingled silently.

Boruto and Himawari were arguing in the background, their high-pitched voices digging holes into their mother’s temples. The subject of their fight went unnoticed, blocked out and pushed into the background, like the static noise of the newly put up power line that ran over their house. Constant, continuous and omnipresent. Never-ending.

She still had a few more typical household activities to complete—washing the dishes after lunch, tidying up the bedrooms, maybe sweeping the floors as well—but she needed a moment. She had already done the laundry, gotten rid of the weeds in front of their house, cooked, and cleaned the bathroom, and there was nothing more she wanted now than some white rose tea and a second of silence. With her children’s argument as a background arrangement, Hinata stood up slowly from where she was seated at the table and went for the kettle. 

While pouring some tap water into the porcelain container—wedding gift, from whom?—she noticed a dull, growing pain in the joints of her forearm. She concentrated the chakra in her eyes, feeling the temperature in her optic nerves rise, and looked over her right arm with the Byakuugan. There was, indeed, a slight inflammation, which pulsated with every move of her hand. It was blocking one of her chakra points as well. _Decades of being a kunoichi and a simple arthritis proves to be a bother_ , she thought bitterly and turned off the tap.

“Mom!”

Himawari. Hinata swiftly turned away from the kettle which she was about to put over the fire. “What is it, darling?”

“Boruto is being mean again,” her daughter pouted and grabbed Hinata’s dress, bringing her small, pale face to the material. “Making me upset. He’s so mean.”

Hinata sighed and put her pained hand on her head, mussing the dark hair. The biggest gesture of comfort she could muster up at the moment. She raised her head, her larynx stretching. “Boruto, don’t be rude to your sister.”

“She keeps talking about baking dad cookies when he comes home, and we both know he won’t come anytime soon!”

He was nowhere to be seen but his voice was clear and audible, like a glass stricken with a spoon . He was probably sulking on the stairs, and Hinata had no strength left in her body to go and talk to him. The pain in her forearm pulsated steadily. She felt Himawari hug her hips tighter and she felt so, so sorry for her. _I know, I’ve been there_ , she thought sadly. _Is there anything I can really do about it?_

“You know Boruto can get really mad with your dad,” Hinata said to her daughter while looking into the corridor, as though Boruto would come back to the kitchen any second and she was getting prepared for that. _Alarmed_. “Even if he’s being mean now, it doesn’t mean he’s doing it on purpose.” Or, at least, that was what she hoped for. 

“So why is he mad at me?” Himawari cried into her dress. Hinata closed her eyes.

“He’s... not,” she tried to explain but it was virtually very difficult for her to try to say something she did not believe in. And that felt simply awful. “You’re just around. And you’re a bit smaller than him. Boys do that.”

Himawari looked up at her, her silver eyes filled with tears. The blush around her cheeks betrayed a raised temperature and Hinata fought the urge to check the chakra points around her face with Byakuugan. “Boys are mean on purpose to small girls?”

Hinata fought a grimace forming around her mouth. Was that what she said? Did she mean that? “Sometimes, yes. But he’s your brother, so... try to cherish any time with him that you have in store, alright?” _Neji. I miss you so much._ “Boruto?”

“Yeah, yeah, sorry.”

Himawari’s face instantly brightened up, concern abandoned; she let go of Hinata’s dress and ran towards the stairs in search for compassion. “Are you not angry with me anymore?”

“I wasn’t angry, stupid,” Hinata heard him say and stomp heavily down the stairs; the bitter feelings for his father must had weighted a ton on his shoulders. They both laughed cheerfully and went for the front door, presumably to play. “Mom’s right, it’s just dad that gets under my skin, you know. I won’t think about it today no more.”

The front door opened and shut closed again, a bit too forcefully for Hinata’s taste but she paid it no mind. Letting out a heavy breath of sacred, sweet relief, she turned back around to prepare her tea - in the traditional way she had learned within her clan and been in love with, despite her husband trying to get her to switch to an electrical kettle. She had never liked doing things the easy and quick way if she could take her time enjoying it. Especially when it came to tea. White rose tea.

She felt bad for complaining about Naruto to the girls. Hinata pushed a lock of hair behind her ear and her mind got lost in the sensation of overpowering guilt that washed over her. While swirling the rose petals in the water within the kettle, her hands were shaking. She based her complaints on emotion instead of solid facts, which was something she had always been advised against way back when her teachings were supported only by the clan members. Think, focus, act; three elements that her father taught her. Or tried to teach her. She had always had problems with thinking instead of feeling. That was why she had never been the favoured daughter and it was essentially Hanabi who stayed and was trained to be the head of the clan. Hinata was just the Hokage’s wife. And that was it.

Hinata put the kettle back over the flame and leaned her lower back against the counter, crossing her arms under her chest, head pointed downwards. Thinking, re-living. The girls had been livid, especially Temari. She had been ready to spill insults left and right if it hadn’t been for Ino, who, Hinata supposed, had treated it as simple improbable gossip from which she had been mostly separated. Ino had downplayed the seriousness of the situation and had managed to calm Temari down. At least for now. 

Thankfully Sakura had been absent; if she had actually been there, Hinata would had never brought the issue up, embarrassed, scared, and ashamed. She wondered if Ino told Sakura about the suspicions she had shared with them and the sole thought seized her throat. She hadn’t thought this through. She was hopeless.

_You’re so stupid_ , she scolded herself and shut her eyes.

Just as the kettle whistled and announced the tea was ready to be brewed, there was a polite knock on the door. Hinata’s head whipped towards the corridor, some strands of hair sticking to her face. She recognized the knocking pattern but focused the chakra in her eyes to double-check nevertheless. 

_What now? Naruto’s not in._

She turned off the flame, put the kettle on a wooden board for it to cool for a moment, and went for the door. She gracelessly wiped her hands into the material of the dress.

“Hinata!” Iruka’s cheerful if slightly hoarse voice reached her ears as she opened the front door and smiled shyly at the guest. “How’s the morning treating you?”

“Quite well, thank you, sensei,” she replied, feeling the muscles around her mouth stiffen. “Naruto’s not in. He has a meeting with the Kazekage at the moment.”

“Yes, I know. It doesn’t matter, I came to you, actually.”

The bracelets jingled. “Oh? Did something happen?”

Iruka pulled out some documents from the inside of his vest; Hinata read "Academy enrol form" written at the top. She switched the gaze of her pale eyes from the papers back to Iruka’s face. He was grinning happily. Proudly.

“What do you say? May I come in?”

Hinata blinked a few times but eventually removed herself from the entrance to make some room for him. “Of course, sensei. Right this way.” 

Iruka bowed before her in a respectful manner and passed her without further ado. Hinata poked her head outside to look for her children but they were nowhere to be seen. 

“Boruto and Himawari said they went to the training grounds to meet with Shikamaru’s son,” she heard Iruka declare from behind her back. After one last look she closed the front door, heading to the kitchen where Iruka had already taken his seat. 

Hinata went to the counter to pour the tea, eyeing the forms that were now spread on the table.

“It was Naruto’s wish for his son to enrol into the academy,” Iruka started and took out a pen from one of his vest’s many pockets. Hinata nodded, mostly to herself. “I know it’s quite early but Boruto is already nine years old and your husband wants to ensure there will be an available place for him.”

Hinata took two cups of tea to the table and sat down next to Iruka’s right side. She instantly grasped her teacup between her hands. “What do you mean by _an available place_ , sensei?”

“Well.” Iruka’s lips stretched out in another wide grin. _He is so proud_ , Hinata thought and almost smiled herself. “There are many candidates for the academy, more so now than ever before! Ever since Naruto declared the need for more branches of studies and the new educational act was passed, there are children from the whole village who want to study there. So many children are applying this year I’m afraid we will have to turn some of them down. Or think about expanding the building and hiring more teachers.”

“Oh,” Hinata’s eyebrows went up and disappeared behind her fringe. “I... had no idea. That’s good news there are so many people interested in shinobi arts, isn’t it?”

“Yeah! And their interests are quite varied as well. I mean, we have children applying for medical, for research and intel, for weapon-craft, for strategists... everyone will have a place there to study what they are passionate about. Faculties can also be mixed for individual needs, if someone is curious and hardworking—”

“So you can be a medic and a weapon specialist at the same time,” Hinata finished for him, tapping her fingers against the porcelain. She sipped on her tea silently. “That’s interesting.”

“Isn’t it? So, as I mentioned before, it was Naruto’s idea to enrol Boruto earlier, in case there will be no vacancies next year.”

“What about Himawari?” Hinata asked. “Will we be enlisting her as well now? Or next year?”

Iruka looked towards their white ceiling, recalling. “...I don’t think Naruto mentioned Himawari, no. From what I remember we just talked about your son. Does Himawari plan to enlist in three years or so?”

“I’m... not sure,” Hinata took a sip of her tea, suddenly worried for a reason she could not comprehend. “I haven’t talked to her about it yet. She’s only seven.”

“Well, if she does, come seek me out at the academy,” Iruka said and pulled the forms closer to himself. “Shall we? Full name and Boruto’s age, please.”

They spent the next twenty minutes on filling out Boruto’s form; Hinata responded to the questions automatically, deep inside still highly obsessed with Himawari and whether her husband didn’t think to mention her to Iruka, or whether he didn’t care about it at all. She couldn’t decide which was worse in her opinion. Having such a conflicting relationship with Boruto and so little time on his hands, she was actually surprised he didn’t leave her to enlist him sooner or later. Did he find it that obvious that Boruto would want to enter the academy? Did he assume? Boruto didn’t seem interested in shinobi arts at all, at least not yet. He was adamant on having fun and spending time with his friends all the time. Would he be ready for such an obligation? On the other hand... had they been ready themselves back in time?

_He’s so young_ , she thought as Iruka signed the document as the principal. _And innocent. What is the academy like at this day and age? Do they prepare the children for warfare anymore? Or are they trained just in case? Or to have fun and cultivate the tradition? Aside from petty criminals and individual criminal offenses, there hadn’t been that much to look out for._

“Alright, that seems to be it,” Iruka said finally and stacked the forms together. He thumped them on the table several times to even them out, and put them back in his vest’s inner pocket. “Thank you, Hinata, for your time. I’m happy to see your son in the academy next year.”

After walking him out, Hinata closed the door and leaned back against it, huffing out a stressed breath. Maybe it was time to actually talk to Naruto.


	12. Chapter 12

Simultaneously, as Hinata welcomed Iruka to their home, Naruto’s cape-clad back hit the wall of the conference room emitting a single crack of a bone somewhere deep.

Shikamaru was looking down at him, a rarely seen, fierce fire behind his eyes. 

_When did he actually get taller than me?_ was a fleeting thought that supplied Naruto’s confused mind, the restless mind; the mind that was still coming down from an adrenaline rush he didn’t know he needed that badly.

“Shikamaru—” he started but was promptly cut off by another shove.

“You—" Shikamaru’s voice trailed off as he apparently tried to compose himself and, maybe, look for the right words in this wrong scenario. “Naruto, you—”

He didn’t finish. Instead he sighed and bowed his head, banging it twice against his Hokage’s shoulder. He froze, then, with his forehead glued to Naruto’s clothes.

_Defeated_ , Naruto concluded. Which he found somewhat satisfying in a way he couldn’t quite decipher within himself. He tried not to smile, to not express ambivalence, knowing it wouldn’t be tactful. But wanted to laugh, nonetheless.

Naruto took a deep breath; Shikamaru’s head raised slightly with the movement of the expanding lungs. “You know I’m doing my best, man.”

Shikamaru’s hands, entwined with Naruto’s cape, clenched even tighter. Naruto prepared for another shove but it did not come. When Shikamaru didn’t respond, he continued: “I know it seemed like I said all of those things on a whim but I really considered the deal.”

“Did you?” Shikamaru’s words were mumbled into the clothes. “Did you really?”

“Yeah, you know me! You know I give everything my whole heart. Why would I reject anyone if I thought it wouldn’t be the best for the village?” Naruto put his hand on Shikamaru’s head, hoping it would restore some peace and balance between the two of them. “Trust me, I know what I’m doing.”

Upon the touch Shikamaru straightened his neck; he went back to looking Naruto straight in the eye with an impending force that hadn’t yet reached its maximum.

“You insulted my wife. And her brother, the Kazekage. Made me look like a fool, too.” 

Naruto sighed, even though he didn’t mean to. “Look, it all got... kinda crazy in here, alright? She’s stricken all my weak points, talking shit about Hinata and... and about Sasuke, and— I’m sorry it happened. I had to defend my honour. Sorry it was Temari that took the beating, though.”

Shikamaru’s eyes never left his during that whole explain-yourself gibberish. They went back into the silence, the unspoken promise of a conflict hanging heavily in the air like smoke from a smoke bomb before a battle.

After what felt like forever, Shikamaru let go of Naruto’s shirt. He took a step back, gaze directed towards the ground. Naruto shifted his weight; he was unconsciously worrying at his lower lip, at a very persisting dry flake of skin in particular.

His eyes were entranced with Shikamaru’s ponytail and as he kept looking, he kept re-thinking the situation; he would had never let it show but he felt quite offended by that whole charade the meeting turned out to be. He _was_ hoping for a peaceful resolution. He wished for Shikamaru to be _proud_ of him, finally, after all these years of monotonous paperwork and useless enactments that took too much time to come alive. He supposed the civilians—and even his friends and acquaintances—were not aware that he had been, indeed, hearing about the rumours through his own system of grape vine. He did not even need a special system; only a total fool would not notice the disappointment of other people. And Naruto couldn’t stand it when he let people down; especially now that he was the current Hokage and the people of the village ought to put absolute trust into him. He simply had to deliver his best, and only now had he had his heart really settled on that idea.

He _was_ thinking about the wellness of his village, dammit, and nobody— _nobody_ —should feel the need to object to that: not Shikamaru, not Gaara, and certainly not Temari, who Naruto kept considering as a guest in the village. 

Naruto gritted his teeth at the thought of Shikamaru’s wife. _What a stuck-up, self—_

“I think I need to go.” 

Shikamaru’s out of the blue confession didn’t surprise him at all; he didn’t exactly expect it, but, in all honesty, he should have. His personal advisor had to re-think, re-calculate, and re-locate himself within the barriers of his job and his workspace after the morning’s fiasco.

Swallowing around the anger that had began to build in his throat, Naruto nodded. “I think that would be for the best,” he agreed, feeling now free to move himself away from the wall, albeit slowly, in case Shikamaru decided to change his mind. Although he didn’t count on that.

And Shikamaru didn’t. Of course. With his head still directed towards the floor, he glided his feet as they moved him closer to the door, closer to leaving. He had his back turned to Naruto as he bowed to pick up a chair that has fallen over in amidst the argument and put it back on its four wooden legs with a small _thump_. 

After that, he was gone. Naruto finally allowed himself to smile bitterly, no teeth showing. 

He punched the wall he was previously thrown against. 

He had no clue what had happened, really. Was he feeling victorious? True, but there was something else. _Regret_? No. _Shame_? Not that, either. 

Ah, yes. There it was.

_Disappointment_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Terribly sorry for the delay! I am now working two jobs, and have several things that I've been working on on my own and couldn't really find the time to sit down and write something. It is a shorter one, compared to the few previous chapters but, hey, it is something.  
> Enjoy!


	13. Chapter 13

As soon as Gaara finished explaining the mortifying side of the morning, Sakura left with gritted teeth and one sentence. _Excuse me_.

He didn’t suppose she was angry with _him_ in particular; he could only try to imagine how confusing the whole situation had to be. He understood even less; everyone seemed so disturbed by unknown sources it was challenging to talk to anyone, in all honesty. About anything. Temari was stressed to the bones—more than usually—about her work and, personally, about Naruto. Naruto was being _much_ more obtuse and unprofessional than usual (and Gaara _refused_ to regard the fate of his land’s water resources at the moment; if he didn’t, he would plummet the whole training grounds into oblivion, Lee included). Sakura was absolutely tense, jumpy even, all over the place with nowhere to go.

And Lee? Lee was behaving in a whole offbeat way. And Gaara didn’t like it.

Lee had also been closely listening to Gaara’s eventful tale of the heated argument but he seemed like he was somehow disconnected from it. From what Gaara remembered, Lee was very close with his friends and their mutual acquaintances, offered advice left and right, and made time to spend it with everyone he deemed important to him (and that was a lot of people, including even some of the neighbours). He was shocked to hear about what had happened and the cause and effect that had tumbled the discussion down in mere minutes, true; however, he didn’t ask any further questions, and he didn’t share his thoughts on the matter.

He had been a perfect listener that contributed nothing to the conversation, and while Gaara had always appreciated not butting in when he was speaking, he didn’t expect that kind of behaviour from Lee who had always jumped at the chance of interrupting him mid-sentence to deliver flowery exclamations and intricate comments.

As the both of them watched Sakura’s retreating back, Gaara decided to investigate on his own. He was sick and tired of the current state of things; during his trips to Konoha, he had always felt leisure, bliss, and warmth. Now it was only bitterness, stress, and the extreme amount of yelling.

And he had been in the village for two days only, for crying out loud.

“What is going on with all of you?” he asked when Sakura’s silhouette disappeared between the tall trees, cloaked by the shadows.

Lee turned his head to him upon that; Gaara noticed his shoulders wandering up to the reddened ears. “Wh-What do you mean?”

“You are all acting crazy,” Gaara explained, brows narrowed. “Temari is too loud, Naruto is more obnoxious than usual, and both Shikamaru and Sakura are too quiet for my taste.”

“Well, uh... from what I have heard, it does seem like there is a giant ball of confusion being rolled around.” Lee laughed silently at his own choice of words, and Gaara felt his heart sing in reciprocation. “I believe it will take them some time to... _unravel_ it, so to speak.”

Gaara’s eyes never left Lee’s face. “And what about you? What’s wrong with you?”

Lee’s body jerked away from him, as if physically objecting to the presented idea. Eyes wide, he began stuttering once again: “Wh- no, why—is there? I mean, I think I would have known—”

“Don’t play dumb with me, Lee,” Gaara interrupted him, eyes searching all over Lee’s face. “I’ve known you for much too long to be fooled by that act of yours. If you don’t want to tell me, fine. Just tell me if there is _anything_ that bothers you. That’s all I’m asking of you. As a friend.”

“Uh... thank you?”

Gaara was silent, waiting for more. Lee wasn’t delivering. Their eyes were locked onto each other in a challenging fashion. _What’s it gonna be? Love me, love me not?_

Eventually, Lee gave up. He hung his head between those tense shoulders; his back raised with an inhalation of a deep, trembling breath. Gaara just kept watching him. 

_There’s something poor inside his soul,_ he concluded. He looked up at the morning sky, feeling the refreshing air of a summer morning that would in a few hours turn into unbearable heat. He did not know if other people could feel the impending shift, but he did. He’d lived in a desert his whole life, after all. Could Temari still detect that, after years of living in Konoha? He did not know. He remembered she used to notice small changes in the pressure in her ankles. 

_It will be very cold tonight,_ she would say, and at first he wouldn’t understand. With age, he did.

Lee’s head sprung back up; he turned his gaze into the same direction. “I do have… something on my mind.”

Gaara nodded. And waited. He was a patient man. But his patience had limits. Something his curiosity lacked significantly.

“But… I don’t know if I am ready to confess. I haven’t told anyone yet.”

“What keeps you?”

“I have done something very bad, Gaara.”

“Haven’t we all sometime in our lifetime?”

“No, it’s－it’s something entirely different.”

“Than what?”

“Than what you have in mind… I suppose.”

“And what do you suppose _I have_ in mind?

“Something－” Lee emitted a pained sound. “I don’t… I did not－”

“Does your sensei know?”

Lee paused for a single beat of a heart. He sighed. “He does. Kakashi does as well.”

“Well, is it something they can help you with?”

“Sort of? I am ashamed to ask for their help but they were both… accommodating? And… very emollient.”

It was Gaara’s turn to sigh. Flowery, poetic language. A grimace. 

He leaned back, laying his back gently on the green grass beneath his body. Looking at the pair of swallows cutting the air above their heads ( _only birds could move with such grace_ ), he asked: “Is there anything I can do for you?”

From the corner of his eye he could note Lee’s gaze upon his body. But Lee didn’t follow suit. Instead, he brought his knees closer to his chest, as if he was trying to shut his heart off. “I would never ask you for something so great. We are… fine. For now.”

Gaara noted the use of a plural pronoun but didn’t comment on that. He lazily mulled it over in his brain instead.   
__  
We.  
We.  
We. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New thing coming through!  
> It's my beloved husbands this time.


	14. Chapter 14

Shikamaru had never been the one to really, _truly_ consider killing someone (even when he was younger and an active shinobi on duty), so it was a first for him.

Sitting on a cobblestone set of stairs that led to Temari’s favourite bakery shop he took out a third cigarette from the pack and lightened it with trembling fingers.

_I can’t believe it_ , he kept thinking, snapping the lighter shut and hiding it back in his vest pocket. _He might’ve actually ruined everything this time._

His mind constantly went back to replaying the meeting. Shikamaru couldn’t exactly control it; he had always joked about his mind _having a mind on its own_ , and that was something that usually came in handy. Thinking didn’t make his brain melt into goo or let out hot steam through his ears. He lived for thinking and planning, had been using it so often he came to perfect the art of it. His plans, with eventual minutiae modifications, went perfectly well. All of them. And if they didn’t, plans B made everything work.

And now, the world was telling him that one big idiot could ruin the elaborate and time-consuming work of his brilliant mind. Not only _some_ big idiot but his _close friend_. A close friend who never shied away from confessing that he was living on for _other people_. The Hokage.

_Pre-organized._

Exhaling a lung-biting stream of smoke he stared into space, eyes blank, empty, his gears switched to full-on recollection inside his head, replaying, remaking, changing pace, fast forward, flash back, pause, start anew. 

_Gotta protect the land and the people, right?_ , Naruto had said. Verbatim. 

Shikamaru put out the cigarette against the sole of his left shoe and threw it precisely between the bars of the closest sewage grating, albeit with more force than he usually would. _I can see that_ , he replied with a grimace. _And you’re doing a shit job at it._

He rarely thought much of his job as Naruto’s assistant. He was just… there. Helping out. At certain hours, sometimes overtime, but he didn’t mind doing it. He had to have some time for himself, of course, and for Temari and Shikadai, and he had made it work within his filled up schedule. He worked hard for it. _Me time, family time, work time. Friend time_ when he had a chance. Putting hours together, mixing them around, working more to work less later, sneak into the house to at least brush his fingers against his son’s hair when he was fast asleep to say _I’m home._

His younger self would have had rejected all of that work in order to try to find himself in the lonely space, probably travel some very far away. Away from promises, responsibilities, everyone that would dictate the way to live his life. Parents, kages, teachers. Shikamaru _had_ planned to run away at some point in his teenage years but was too lazy and too _scared_ to actually do it. He had had everything packed, and then had spent three more hours to unpack as silently as he could, biting back the tears.

Obviously, it had not come to that. And now, a decade later, he was forever grateful for that shameful shriek of fear that had kept him in the village, home. He wouldn’t have had Temari and Shikadai otherwise. And his close friends.

_Friends._

_Pre-organized_ , Choji had said the other day. _Unnatural friendships._

Years of assimilation within the shinobi world and following orders (and, later on, not even minding it), and today felt like a total fallout. Brought by one, single person.

_A close friend. The Hokage._

_Pre-organized?_

Shikamaru reached towards his pocket and retrieved the pack of cigarettes. He rolled the fourth one between his fingers. He had been feeling something he hadn’t felt in a long while. A very well-known feeling, a feeling that had been haunting his childhood and adolescent years. 

And that was the feeling of being disrespected.

His evolved dedication was shamelessly disrespected. Thrown away, put in a trash can by a disgusted pair of hands. His deep, intricate love for his wife was ridiculed. His brother-in-law’s plea for his people was rejected with a wave of a hand like it was a pestering fly. How－ What－Why－

A tear of confusion trailed down his left cheek; he wiped it with a tense hand, shocked at its appearance. _Was all that work for… nothing?_

_Pre-organized._ A whisper. 

He put the cigarette back in the pack and hid his face in shaking hands. _Stop, please,_ he begged his mind. _For once, stop. There’s only so much I can handle, alright?_

“What the hell are you doing here?”

Shikamaru’s head bounced back up, eyes finally focused on no one other than Temari. He stared at her, mouth agape. “What are _you_ doing here? I thought you were with your brother?”

Temari put her hand on her hip; the other one was gesturing towards the stairs. “I was on my way to get myself some comfort garlic bread for my salad after all that bullshit in the morning, but you’re blocking the way,” she said, an accusatory aura around her; a fake one, though. She smiled, but the smile died as quickly as it appeared. “No way. You weren’t crying… were you?”

“It’s the fucking sun,” he lied, reaching for her hand. She grabbed it and held it tightly, her fingers caressing his. “Mind buying me some garlic bread, too?”

He knew Temari didn’t buy that. Instead, she leaned down and embraced his neck. Kissed his forehead. He raised his head and kissed her lips. 

“Come with me,” she said and pulled him up. “You can get it yourself, wonderboy.”

Shikamaru took the paper shopping bag from her and, hand in hand, they both ascended.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was inspired and have written three chapters in a row? Who does that?  
> You will probably have to wait for another one, folks, since I've got loads of work on my hands that I have to keep up with.  
> Nevertheless, enjoy the sadness!


End file.
